


Casanova

by madneto



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madneto/pseuds/madneto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr, aka Giacomo Casanova, has been leading a perfectly happy life in Venice while waiting for his mother to return to him. That is, until the day he accidentally stumbles upon the young idealist professor Charles Xavier. Loosely based on the 2005 Heath Ledger movie Casanova.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Tell me I’m the only one.”

Six inevitable words, and Erik smiled with the routine of it all. The sentence was always spoken, and was always spoken breathlessly; the speaker’s mouth hot against his lips, his ear, his cheek. He had heard the phrase so many times his response was automatic.

“I am yours,” he crooned, stroking his partner’s tousled hair. Timing was the key. If they asked too soon, the illusion was never as picturesque as it could be. It was much more romantic if they asked him right before he was about to leave. Luckily, most of his conquests asked for fidelity right as he was about to flee their chambers, chased by the police, or a raging husband, or perhaps on a particularly good day, a Mother Superior.

And today just so happened to be a particularly good day. Erik could hear the commotion of what was probably a gaggle of nuns and police officers drawing ever closer as he hastily pulled up his trousers and gathered his vest and coat in his arms.

To be honest, Erik liked telling practically all the women in Venice that they were his one and only. He knew that they knew it was a lie, but if he could bring their lives a little bit more joy by making them believe that they had finally tamed Casanova the Libertine, then why should he feel guilty?

Erik would never admit it to himself, but he also got a flutter of happiness every time a woman demanded that he confess his devotion, but he would never analyze why. There were far too many women waiting for him behind their coyly unlatched windows to waste time thinking about love and depravity.

“Casanova!” Came the shriek from the hall, and Erik was ripped out of his musings when Sister Beatrice yanked him to her firmly by the ears for one last, tongue-tangling kiss. He allowed himself to sink into the feeling for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“Go!” Beatrice shouted with a pained look on her face as she pushed him towards the open window. “Go, they’re just down the hallway.”

Erik stepped out onto the thin ledge of the windowsill and was about to jump for the roof when he felt another tug at his arm.

Beatrice’s face was full of longing and despair as she looked up at him with pale brown eyes. “I’ll never forget you,” she breathed earnestly.

“Nor I you,” Erik replied, grinning roguishly. The smile slid from his face, however, when the door of his latest conquest’s room banged fiercely open. The Mother Superior, who was first through the door, let out a triumphant shriek, and pointed at Erik righteously.

“We’ve caught you at last!” she howled as several policemen bolted into the room behind her. Without any further ado, Erik leapt from the window, dropping his coat on the windowsill and landing soundly on the lower level roof of the nunnery. As soon as he had caught his balance, he began running and attempting to button up his vest. The thrill of the chase was as familiar to him as what came before, and he reveled in it, laughing freely as red brick tiles slid off the roof behind him and into the canal below.

A clattering noise accompanied by several grunts a few yards behind him informed Erik that the policemen had now joined him on the roof. He whooped excitedly and put on a bit more speed; he would have to be going a little faster to make it to the next house over. The sound of shutters opening blended with the click and splash of tiles falling into the dirty canal water below.

“Casanova!”

“Casanova!”

Myriad nuns beckoned to him from their windows. Erik had never seen such temptation in his life (and that was saying something), but he was forced to ignore their pleas as the edge of the nunnery roof drew nearer and he picked up more speed.

The house across the narrow street wasn’t too far away, but a wrong landing might spell a twisted ankle or a painful drop into the water. With a rushed prayer and a deep breath, Erik sprung across the gap, letting out what he hoped was dignified yelp which was quelled by a relieved sigh when his feet landed solidly on the nun’s neighbor’s roof.

Despite his relief, he did not pause to celebrate. Making sure he was balanced, he dashed to the other end of the house, where he discovered a long balcony stretching out of the third floor, just low enough for him to reach. Sliding clankingly off the edge of the roof, he dropped to his feet and ran the length of the balcony. The policemen were still in hot pursuit, but Erik was gaining distance thanks to his recklessness. He could hear more officers on the street below. They must have chased him from outside the nunnery, he realized exasperatedly.

Erik was used to life on the run. He had been born in Poland, but had traveled around half of Europe with his mother, searching for jobs, before she had left him with an ailing great-aunt on the outskirts of Venice when he was only ten.

“Erik,” she had said tearfully, pulling him into a warm embrace and letting his own tears stain her travelling cloak. “You must stay here. Where I’m working next is no place for a young boy.”

“A WHORE HOUSE!” His great-aunt had shouted from the kitchen, the first indication of how pleasant Erik’s stay with her would be.

“A TRAVELLING THEATRE!” Edie shot back over Erik’s shoulder, breaking their hug and bending down to look her son in the eye, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Listen to me,” she had whispered. “I will come back for you, I promise.”

Erik had believed her, so four years later, when his great-aunt died, he had stayed in Venice. Now, ten years later, he was still waiting for her. Sometimes Erik thought it was rather naïve of him, but he enjoyed Venice and the life he had built for himself here. When his great-aunt died, he decided to create a new life, which included a new name. From then on, Erik Lehnsherr had become Giacomo Casanova, and no one had been the wiser.

Now, as he clambered over the side of the balcony’s railing in an attempt to jump to the safety of an open window across the street, he reflected that maybe Erik Lehnsherr should spend a bit less time being Casanova and a bit more time practicing his upper-arm strength. Once he was on the dangerous side of the railing, Erik took one last rallying breath, crossed himself, and soared over the gap between the two buildings.

He landed with a harsh thud on a staircase, leaving a few new bruises to join the ones he had gained from last night’s activities. Groaning, he picked himself up and quickly surveyed his surroundings. No one else was in the passageway, but he could hear the murmured voices of what sounded like a hot debate wafting up the steps. Checking to make sure he looked at least slightly presentable, he crept down the stairs nonchalantly and entered what appeared to be the lecture hall of a university, judging by all the stuffy, learned men in grey wigs and long black robes. Perhaps he could blend in with these stodgy old professors and wait for the danger outside to pass. He took a seat at the back of the auditorium and hoped no one would recognize how different his appearance was.

“I do not say a woman should be uneducated,” a particularly unpleasant-looking old man was booming from in front of a podium that was placed before a large table, where many other unpleasant looking men were seated. “I am merely saying that the areas of science and philosophy are beyond their capabilities. Women are far too delicate of creatures to understand such complex things. We are doing them a favor by not allowing them to enter into this university.” The man sat back down to a round of applause, while another man stood up to take his place at the podium.

Erik, who had been slumping down on his bench, couldn’t help but sit up straighter when he set eyes on the new speaker. He was wearing a grey wig like all the other professors, but even at this distance, Erik could see stray wisps of dark brown hair sticking out from underneath it. He wasn’t especially tall, but his presence was extremely demanding- this was a man with a firm moral code that he was entirely sure of, and the man who had just sat down had just undermined those morals. Erik could tell that this young professor was already incensed beyond the point of breaking, and that the first speaker would never win this debate.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “My colleague has just stated his belief that women’s place is in the home- that their minds are much too delicate, their brains too small to ever comprehend the marvels of modern science. However, I have seen time and time again that women are just as intelligent as men, and only thrive in the household because that is where men have held them captive. If women were allowed to attend this university they would thrive here as well! I personally have tutored many women, and have calculated their progress against that of my male students at the university.” Here, amidst groans from his fellow professors, he held up stack of papers so heavy he had to lift it with both hands before dropping it firmly back onto the podium.

“My research shows that the women I tutored learned just as quickly as the men in my classes, in most cases more quickly,” he leaned forward earnestly, almost knocking his research from its resting place. “I assure you, their thirst for knowledge is great, and allowing women to enter the university would only help further every ones knowledge. Look-”

He broke off to rummage for something in the folds of his robe. “My sister and I built this together. It was completely her idea and her design.” He produced a small hot air balloon and lit a candle inside it, making the canvas inflate. “As the philosopher Bernardo Guardi has said, a woman is air and fire.” The young man released his grip and the miniature hot air balloon soared towards his colleagues. Outraged and confused shouts rent the air and a few men even attempted to scramble away from the thing. Erik however, could not stop flicking his eyes back and forth between the toy and its maker. This man was absolutely enthralling, and his passion for his subject was so great that Erik wondered how he could stand being around such small-minded people all the time.

Unfortunately, Erik’s musings on the young professor were cut short when approximately ten police men burst through the door of the lecture hall, glanced briefly around, and spotted their quarry trying to slink down in between the bench and the floor of the back row.

Finding his hiding place inadequate, Erik scrambled to his feet and hopped from bench to bench down the lecture hall. Two policemen lunged for him. Desperately, he grabbed at the hot air balloon which was drifting a few feet above his head, leaping over his would-be captor’s outstretched arms.

The toy was much too small to support his weight, but he must have kicked off from the last bench with surprising force because he fell the last few feet to land at the base of the podium, knocking his forehead unceremoniously against the mahogany.

Erik glanced up, rubbing what was sure to be a very prominent bruise, and noticed he was gazing into the bluest eyes he had ever seen in his life. The professor’s grey wig was slightly askew and he was gaping back at Erik, jaw dropped, like he’d never seen anything so astonishing. Everything around them froze for just a moment. Then they were ripped back to the present when someone shouted, “Get him, Xavier!”

The man, whose name he now realized must be Xavier, closed his mouth and blinked several times before breaking eye contact with Erik. Before he could do anything, however, four pairs of hands grasped Erik from behind, pulling him roughly to his feet. Xavier stumbled backwards a little, trying to take in the fiasco that had just taken place in the middle of his presentation. His eyes grazed over the newly-arrived policemen and what Erik assumed must be a lot of upturned benches and disgruntled professors before resting once again on Erik, lips parting just slightly as blue met grey for the second time.

Erik was sure the other man was about to say something when the familiar voice of Chief Inspector Rogers pierced his ears like a knife.

“Ah, Casanova,” the Inspector said, in what Erik was sure he thought was a triumphantly silky tone, but managed to be an awkward bark. “We’ve got you at last, it seems.”

Xavier’s brow creased as his gaze flickered between Erik and Rogers, but the policeman didn’t seem to notice it, or indeed anyone else in the room, because he just shouted, “Take him away, boys!” to his men and strutted from the room. Erik wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking, but he swore he could feel Xavier’s stare follow him as he was dragged out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Erik and his captors reached the police station, Professor Xavier was one of the last things on Erik’s mind. He stood shifting nervously from foot to foot, avoiding Chief Inspector Rogers’s dangerously huge grin by staring at the floor. Several seconds passed and, when Rogers said nothing, Erik looked up expectantly to see the man still smiling at him. This was all a bit ridiculous.

“Well,” he said impatiently. “Am I going to be charged and hanged or am I allowed to go?”

Rogers continued grinning up at him from behind his desk. “I’m simply savoring the moment, Giacomo.” Evidently, he was trying to bring Erik down to a certain level by using what he thought was his first name. Erik smiled despite himself. “The moment before I finally sentence the infamous Casanova to death. Justice is sweet.”

“Though not swift. I feel like I’ve been standing here all day.”

The cheeky retort was like a slap to the face, and Rogers ceased his inane attempts to belittle Erik.

“Giacomo Casanova,” he began, rising with an air of righteousness from his chair, “you have been charged with fornication with a novice. I hereby sentence you-” but he was interrupted when a figure tall figure with dark hair and a dark goatee entered, wearing decadent red and gold robes. “Ah- Prince Antony.” A thin smile pasted itself mechanically onto Roger’s pale blonde face and he bowed low.

“Chief Inspector,” the Prince replied indifferently. “This is not a pleasure call. I have come to tell you to release your prisoner.”

Erik smiled as warmth crept back into his body. Leave it to Tony to be mercilessly direct. Rogers’s own grin practically slipped off his face and Erik fancied he could hear it fall with a wet splat onto the floor.

“With all due respect, your majesty,” Rogers floundered, and Erik had to hold back a laugh by biting his lip, “this man was caught fornicating with a novice. A woman of the cloth, in fact.”

Prince Antony gave his best impression of solemnity. “Yes, yes, I have no doubt that this man has done some dubious things in the past,” he said, nodding gravely. “Haven’t we all.” He winked mischievously at Erik who caught his eye and grinned even wider.

“However,” the Prince continued, “I must ask you, did you actually catch this young man mid-coitus with the nun in question?”

Rogers colored a little out of frustration. “Well, no, we did not,” he admitted, shuffling a few papers anxiously on his desk. “But he was half dressed! And he was fleeing the scene!”

“With a face like yours, Chief Inspector, I can hardly blame him for running,” Tony interrupted. The policeman’s face turned such a dark color of puce that Erik wondered if he might spontaneously combust. Tony waved his hand regally. “But that is not the point, my good sir. The point is, if you do not have any hard proof that Signor Casanova spent the night with this woman, a testimony perhaps...?”

Rogers shook his head, stared down at his desk and mumbled, “She’s taken a vow of silence.”

“Well then I see no reason to believe that Signor Casanova was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time!” The Prince concluded, clapping his hands together and smiling jovially at the pair of them. He turned to Erik. “I believe you are free to go. Rogers, if you would be so kind to unlock his shackles.”

The Inspector’s head snapped up and he looked pleadingly at Tony. “Please, your highness,” he said, bowing, “I’ve finally caught him. The Vatican is beginning to suspect my department of favoring him, and you know that cannot end well-”

“Inspector,” the Prince replied stonily, fixing the man before him with an imperial glare, “I have no time for your begging. You have no genuine proof, therefore you have no case. The shackles, if you please.”

Rogers looked as if he was about to argue further, but blanched when Tony continued to stare icily at him. Finally, he lowered his gaze and rounded the table, pulling out a ring of keys and fitting one into Erik’s handcuffs.

“Thanks so very much,” Erik said, flexing his fingers and rubbing the spot on his wrists where Rogers had fixed the manacles too tightly. The man practically growled back at him, but there was nothing he could do to Erik now that his good friend Prince Antony was here.

Tony was already sweeping out of the room, a trail of guards following. Erik nodded briefly to Rodgers before jogging to catch up with the Prince. As soon as they were out in the open air of the street, free from the stuffy confines of the police station, Erik opened his mouth to thank Tony. Before he could say anything, however, his friend stopped short and rounded on him, anger sparkling in his eyes.

“This is the last time I bail you out, Giacomo,” he said, his voice dropping to dangerously low levels. “Rogers isn’t the only one who is under investigation from the Inquisition at the Vatican. If you keep this up, I won’t be able to help you for much longer.”

Erik forced his mouth shut, before opening it again to ask, “You’re under investigation? But you’re the Prince!”

Tony gave a rueful laugh. “These are dark times we live in,” he said, clapping Erik on the shoulder. “It seems some believe me to be an accomplice in your… activities. Even if I don’t get any of the benefits.”

The Prince looked a bit wistful before shaking his head and continuing. “But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is you’ve just escaped death with my assistance for the last time. No more freebies.”

Tony’s eyes were holding Erik’s with stern resolution. He dropped his hand from Erik’s shoulder. “Giacomo, we have been friends for a long time, and I have saved your hide countless times. Now I need you to possibly save mine. And this is an order.”

Erik swallowed. “What do you need me to do, Tony?” he asked bracing himself for what he thought was probably going to be exile. No more hope of a reunion with his mother.

“You need to find a wife.”

Erik let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Really?” he said, almost indignantly. “That’s it? Find a wife?”

“Before Carnivale, or the Inquisition will be breathing down my neck even worse than they are now. And believe me,” Tony replied frowning, “it’s going to be a difficult enough task, what with your reputation.”

~

“I don’t supposed it’s of any use to tell you we could just as easily hunt for your future wife from a park bench?” Erik’s manservant Alexander piped for what must have been the thousandth time. “A nice, inexpensive park bench, where none of our debtors would be likely to spot us?”

Erik sipped his tea airily. “That’s why they make these outdoor cafes, Alex. Women watching,” he said cheerily. “And then, of course, dining and ditching. Drink your tea, it’ll make you feel better.”

His friend scowled, running fingers nervously through short blonde hair. “Remind me again the sort of woman we’re looking for?”

“Chaste. Pure. Beautiful. Wealthy would be a plus…” Erik mused. “You’d like wealthy, wouldn’t you, Alex?”

An unamused snort was his companion’s only reply.

“What about that one?” Erik pointed to a tall, brown-haired beauty passing the bridge to their right. She was wearing a red travelling cloak over a simple white dress. “White is virginal, correct?”

“Not as much as you’d think, considering she’s wearing a wedding band,” Alex snapped back, taking a huffy swig of his tea.

Erik’s eyebrows shot up, impressed. “Good eyes, my friend.”

Alex bowed back sanctimoniously, before drawing Erik’s attention to a young woman with curly red hair. “How about her? Anna-Marie De Luca? Her father owns half the real estate in Venice.”

Erik frowned and shook his head. “Bad idea to start courting the daughter of the man to whom we might actually owe three month’s rent.”

Alex nodded and touched his nose before pointing at Erik. “Shrewd. Shrewd.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea and nibbling lazily at bits of biscotti before Erik suddenly sat forward in his chair and pointed again at the bridge.

“There. Her.”

Crossing the bridge was a blonde, pale young woman with large blue eyes that matched her dress strikingly. There was something about her movement that seemed mysterious, almost ethereal, and something about the softness in her face that screamed Virginal Venetian.

Erik heard a soft gasp from Alex. “That is the British ambassador Kurt Marko’s step-daughter, Raven,” he breathed. “You certainly know how to pick them, Giacomo.”

“Since you know so much about her already I assume you’d know where to find her?” Erik asked, tearing his eyes away from Raven, lest she notice the pair of them staring.

Alex nodded. “Of course.”

Erik stood swiftly, checking to see if any waiters were close by, and then motioned for Alex to join him as he dashed for the street. Thankfully, no one noticed them leaving their tea unpaid for, and, after putting several canals between them and the small café, Erik turned and addressed his friend.

“Right. We’re going home. I’ll get changed, and then you can take us to see Marko, who will hopefully give us an audience with his charming daughter, and then I will be well on my way to repaying my debt to Tony.”

“At least that’s one debt that will be repaid,” Alex said sardonically. Erik ignored him. He was in far too good of spirits for anything to upset him now. Whistling cheerily, Erik rounded the corner and suddenly froze upon seeing the figure in front of him. He pulled a confused Alex back around the corner and clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his protests. Cautiously, he peered around the edge of the building and looked down the street, barely ten paces away, at the back door of the printers.

No, he had not been mistaken. Standing outside on the deserted sidewalk, talking in hushed tones to the master printer was the young Professor Xavier from earlier in the day.

“Why exactly are we-” Alex began, but Erik turned and glared at him, putting a finger vertically over his lips in a gesture that firmly meant Silence.

In truth, Erik didn’t know why exactly he was hiding from this man. They had only locked eyes for a fraction of a second, and the whole ordeal was over much too quickly for Xavier to get a good mental picture of him. Besides, he had been wearing far fewer and less expensive clothes. The tailored suit Erik was wearing now was obviously made for a man of great circumstance, not a man who ran from police on Venetian rooftops.

All the same, Erik was sure that the conversation Xavier was having was not meant to be overheard, which made him want to find out exactly what was being said. He shifted his ear to the edge of the wall, listening intently.

“-too dangerous,” he heard, in a tone too low to be that of the young man he had heard debating earlier. “Can’t take any more risks. There’s been talk of a Grand Inquisitor coming to town.”

“Just one more book,” Erik heard Xavier next, a pleading note in his voice. “This one has out-sold all the others, you said it yourself. Please, I’m almost done. Just this one last book, at least until this whole Inquisition thing blows over. Please. Signor, don’t make me beg.”

There was a pause and, finally, a sigh from the deeper-voiced man. “Alright, one last book, and then I’m done. The women in this city may love your work, but I assure you the Grand Inquisitor will be none too thrilled.”

Erik could hear the smile in Xavier’s voice. “Thank you, my friend, thank you. I promise, no harm will come to you because of me.”

“It had better not.”

There was the sound of footsteps and a door closing, then silence. Erik peeked around the edge of the building experimentally, and, seeing the street deserted, began walking swiftly towards his apartment, ignoring Alex’s cries of “Just what the hell was that all about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, infinite thanks to my lovely beta dizzycalm. And thanks to everyone who is reading! I really appreciate the comments and kudos. <3!


	3. Chapter 3

Erik examined himself in the mirror, twisting to see the way his most expensive suit coat fell, complimenting his long legs and rather nice arse.

Alex wandered in from where he had been freshening up in the bathroom. “You’ll knock ‘em dead,” he said, grinning as Erik jumped a little and seemed to come to himself.

“You know, I was thinking,” Erik said, continuing to preen by picking imaginary dust off his shoulders, “Tony said this whole marriage thing would be difficult if I was Casanova.”

“You are Casanova,” Alex replied, frowning.

Erik rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, of course. But he has a point, doesn’t he?”

Alex only looked blankly up at him, and Erik sighed in frustration. “I think I should take up a pseudonym. In all likelihood, the family of a beautiful, virginal young lady will not take kindly to Casanova showing up at their doorstep, asking for an audience.”

Alex nodded, brow furrowed in thought. “Very clever, sir, very clever. What pseudonym do you suggest?”

“I have no idea!” Erik replied, his eyes sweeping around the room for inspiration until at last they lighted on the bookshelf. “Salvito. Lupo Salvito.”

“Well,” Alex scoffed. “Let’s hope they have better taste in novels than you. Naming yourself after a penny dreadful hero, I ask you… What a superhero complex you have.”

However, it seemed that the Markos were much too high brow to read anything beyond Shakespeare and Plato, at least that’s the impression Erik got from the size of their apartment as he and Alex stood outside it, gazing at the ornate gold door knocker the size of Erik’s head.

“You know, we could just steal that and forget this whole thing. Move to Paris or something,” Erik said, hoping Alex didn’t notice the anxiety in his voice.

Alex didn’t reply. Taking a deep breath, Erik reached up and used the golden doorknocker to knock loudly three times on the Marko’s front door. He stepped back and straightened his coat and grey wig nervously before the front door swung open revealing a woman with red hair and a maid’s uniform.

“Hello, dear.” Erik grinned winningly at her, a well-practiced maneuver. “Would I be right in thinking that this is the esteemed House of Marko?”

The maid nodded and seemed to swallow hard before replying. “Yes, sir. May I ask who is calling so I may tell my master?”

“Lupo Salvito,” Erik answered without batting an eye.

“And what is the purpose of your visit?”

Erik winked roguishly at her. “Private business, I’m afraid, my dear.”

The maid blushed and turned her gaze down before opening the door and beckoning Erik and Alex into the foyer of the expansive apartments. She led them down a hallway lined with portraits and busts of important-looking people before showing them into a bright, open sitting room, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves. The maid gestured to two claw-footed, embroidered couches.

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll fetch Signor Marko,” she said before bowing herself out tremulously, leaving Erik and Alex to marvel at the room they found themselves in.

“Certainly no penny dreadfuls here,” Alex called to Erik as he examined one of the bookshelves.

Erik had wandered over to a grand piano that was next to one of the open windows. There was sheet music piled neatly on the unopened top, held in place by a gold paperweight. Erik peeked out the window; it offered a beautiful view of the canal and the street opposite, which was deserted save for a few well dressed locals and what appeared to be a chimney sweep on his lunch break.The young, soot-covered boy’s eyes met Erik’s before looking hastily away- it seemed he had been staring intently at the window before Erik had occupied it.

“Signor Salvito?” a lofty voice asked, and Erik drew away from the window to face the newcomer in the doorway.

Kurt Marko was tall and nicely built; wearing a distinguished grey wig, a tailored green suit, and a smile that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your company before.”

“No, I’m afraid this is our first introduction,” Erik said, smiling and going to shake Marko’s hand. “My name is Lupo Salvito and this is my manservant Alexander.”

Alex inclined his head to Marko. “Sir,” he said graciously, and Marko nodded at him before turning back to face Erik.

“If you and your manservant would care to take some tea with me, perhaps we could discuss this ‘private matter’ as my maid says outside?”

A few minutes later, they were seated in the walled garden of Marko’s home, sipping tea and making polite conversation before Erik could find the courage to state his proposal to his host. Finally, he braced himself mentally and set down his teacup.

“Signor Marko,” he said quickly. “I’m afraid this was not simply an introductory call.”

Marko raised his eyebrows superciliously. “So I gathered,” he said, sipping unconcernedly at his tea.

Erik tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. “I wish there was a more eloquent way to put this, but I have come to ask for your daughter Raven’s hand in marriage.”

Marko didn’t say anything; instead he slowly lowered his teacup and saucer, looking evenly at it until it rested securely on the garden table. He turned his gaze back to Erik, who almost flinched under its thinly veiled severity. “This is all a bit untoward,” he finally replied.

Erik let out a breath. “I realize this, and please believe me, I mean no disrespect. I saw her this morning while taking tea with Alex…ander, and I saw her walking across the canal. She is the most stunning creature I have ever seen.”

Marko nodded knowingly. “Yes, my step-daughter has had many suitors. She is not spoken for, as of yet. I guard my property well,” he finally smiled at Erik, who had to suppress a shudder at the cold possessiveness in Marko’s voice. “However, Signor Salvito, you seem to be a man of high standing, from your attire and the manner in which you carry yourself. Perhaps we can reach an arrangement.”

“Thank you, Signor,” said Erik, inclining his head towards Marko.

“As it so happens, my step-daughter and step-son should be back from the market any minute,” said Marko. “It would only be proper for you to be formally introduced to the both of them. I’m afraid my own son, Cain, is away in England with some friends for the time being, so you will be unable to meet him.”

Erik grinned. “I would be delighted, Signor.”

Marko stood. “Well then, shall we wait for them in the drawing room since we’ve finished our tea?”

Both Erik and Alex stood swiftly and followed Marko back into the house. The sound of the pianoforte was drifting through the corridors, and seemed to be growing louder as the trio made their way back to the room the maid had first shown Erik and Alex into. Sure enough, as they entered the drawing room, Erik saw the same beautiful, blonde haired young woman from earlier that day seated at the piano, concentrated on the music in front of her. What he saw next almost made him trip over the flamboyant Oriental rug in the center of the room. Seated cross-legged on one of the claw-footed couches, reading a book, was the young professor Xavier. He was dressed in a nicely tailored blue suit that Erik imagined would bring out his eyes beautifully, and without the wig of the University, his hair was a thick dark brown that looked like it would be extremely soft if Erik managed to card his hand through it. Erik quickly closed his mouth and tried to make his expression less dazed.

“Children,” Marko said grandly, gesturing for Erik to join his side to be introduced. “May I introduce Signor Lupo Salvito.”

Raven ceased her playing and stood up from the bench. Her brother tore his gaze away from his book and looked up at Erik, his bright blue eyes meeting Erik’s once more. A slight frown creased his brow for a second, and Erik worried that he might have been found out. However, Xavier seemed to dismiss whatever doubts he might have had, and stood beside his sister.

“Signor Salvito, this is my step-daughter Raven Xavier and her brother Charles Xavier.” Raven curtsied to Erik when her stepfather said her name, and he bowed reverently back. Charles, who had not stopped gazing intently at Erik as if trying to place where he knew him from, caught himself and bowed towards Erik, who reciprocated quickly, finding it difficult to take his eyes off Charles once again.

“It is charming to meet you both,” Erik said, breaking his eye contact with Charles to step forward and kiss Raven’s hand.

“He has come to ask for your hand in marriage, Raven,” Marko said abruptly. Raven’s eyes widened and lips parted in surprise. Erik tried to give her an apologetic sort of smile for her step father’s shortness, but she had turned to look at her brother. Charles was looking from Erik to Raven to Marko with a decidedly neutral expression.

Marko didn’t seem to register any of this. “I’ve told him a bit of social intercourse seems appropriate before I give my final answer.”

Raven seemed to be schooling her face into a mask of gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” she said.

“A walk around the neighborhood perhaps?” Marko suggested airily.

“Yes, why don’t we all go?” Charles said suddenly. “I could do with some fresh air.”

“Yes, why not?” Erik said perhaps a bit too quickly, for Charles looked at him piercingly. “I should like to get to know what may turn out to be my in-laws better.”

Marko clapped his hands. “Excellent! Shall we?”

~

The walk was brief, only about half-an-hour, and made painfully boring by Marko’s forced small talk. When they had first spoken in the garden, Erik had said he was in the finance business, and Marko had decided that this little impromptu chaperoned date was the perfect time for Erik to elaborate on his work. This meant Erik was forced to make up elaborate stories about great world leaders he had met and advised, or posh parties he had attended in distant cities.

By the end of the stroll, Erik had learned nothing about the Xaviers, except that Charles didn’t seem to remember who he was, (for which Erik thanked his lucky stars) but had a distinct dislike of him all the same. Raven seemed indifferent. In fact, he believed she had hardly been listening to a word he said. Instead, she kept shooting furtive glances at Charles; after a while Erik fancied they must have been having some sort of mental conversation. He couldn’t blame her for feeling reserved to her fate- Marko already seemed to have made up his mind about Erik, and it stood to reason that Raven had no say in the matter. However, she politely attempted a smile for him as they all said goodbye outside the door of her stepfather’s apartments.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Marko said. “I hope we shall see you again soon?”

“Of course,” Erik replied, inclining his head towards them all. “The pleasure has been all mine.” Erik couldn’t help but look over at Charles, whose face seemed to have flashed with something like a smirk, which vanished almost instantly. Erik registered this mentally, but didn’t let it show on his face. “I wonder if I might call on you all later in the week?”

“That would be splendid!” Marko exclaimed, shaking Erik’s hand. “Come whenever you like.”

Erik bowed to them all in a gesture of farewell. “Thank you,” he said, straightening up. “I will see you all soon.” He kissed Raven’s hand before she, her brother, and her stepfather all went back inside. He turned to Alex, who had been silent for almost the entire walk.

“That went well, didn’t it?” He said enthusiastically, clapping his friend on the back.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Swimmingly, master,” he said, shrugging off Erik’s hand with great irritation. “Honestly, the way those rich snobs talk it’s like you owned me! We may be poor, but I hope you don’t expect me to put up with that kind of treatment once you and Miss Xavier are marr-”

Alex’s rant was cut short by the sound of footsteps running towards them on the cobblestones, and a leather glove hitting Erik in the face with a resounding slap. He spluttered and waved at his face before recovering enough to look around for his attacker. Standing before him, body tense and blackened face set in lines of extreme rage, was the chimney sweep Erik had spotted through the Xavier’s sitting room window. Erik let out a sharp bark of incredulous laughter at the sight.

“What did you do that for?” He asked, as an extremely disgruntled Alex bent down to pick up the young man’s glove.

“You have sullied my glove!” The sooty boy replied, snatching his glove from Alex’s hand before wincing. “My love. You have sullied my love…” His face set itself back into one of nervous anger. “And for that I demand a duel!” He threw the glove back at Erik, who batted it aside, onto Alex, who shot an annoyed look to Erik before handing it back to the chimney sweep.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Erik asked, fighting back laughter. “And why are you challenging us to a duel?”

The boy stood up straighter. “I’m Henry. And I’m challenging to you to a duel because I am going to marry Raven Xavier.”

Alex and Erik exchanged confused glances, only to be broken by Henry slapping Erik with his glove again and throwing it to his feet like a gauntlet. Alex sighed and retrieved the makeshift weapon once more.

“Well that’s interesting,” Erik replied. “No one mentioned you.” Henry’s face dropped for a fraction of a second. “As for the duel, I’m afraid I must respectfully refuse. I have no desire to kill someone as vivacious and determined as you. Good day.”

Erik and Alex pushed past the dumb-founded young man, but he promptly wheeled around and threw his glove once more, this time miscalculating and hitting Alex in the back of the head. Alex froze for the slightest instant before rounding on Henry. He reached down and picked up the glove, rushing forward and smacking Henry’s face and torso with it.

“Perhaps that will teach you- no means no,” Alex said firmly, throwing the glove onto the ground, and realizing only too late why Henry was grinning. He looked at Erik.

“Now, why did you do that, Alex?” Erik inquired with a layer of dangerous sweetness that made his friend blanch.

“I don’t know,” Alex replied apologetically.

“Giardini Pubblici at midday tomorrow!” The young man cried triumphantly, snatching his glove from the ground. “May I know whom I will have the pleasure of killing?”

“Lupo Salvito.”

Erik glared at Alex as Henry trotted off looking extremely pleased with himself.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, as the sun was halfway across the sky, Erik and Alex made their way to the Giardini Pubblici in the heart of the city. It was an odd place for a duel, seeing as there were always many people there, basking in the Venetian sun or strolling through the trees and flower patches. Witnessing bloodshed was a surefire way to put a damper on an unsuspecting citizen’s day. However, Henry now knew who Erik was (or rather who Erik was pretending to be), so there was little chance he could not show up without retribution. Erik had had enough of having his face slapped with a sooty leather glove.

Erik and Alex quickly sought out the three other men, who had already donned their customary dueling masks; Henry, his second, and a dueling referee.

As soon as Erik and Alex approached, the referee addressed them. “Sirs, put on your masks. First blood ends the duel.”

“This all is rather unfair,” Erik remarked as he pulled on his black, long-nosed mask. “Alex and I have only just arrived. We’ve barely had time to catch our breath!”

The referee ignored him. “On the count of three! One! Two! -” Erik unsheathed his sword- “Three!”

The shorter of the two men lunged forward with a shout, his sword slashing expertly through the air and almost lighting on Erik’s shoulder before he blocked it with a parry. Erik stumbled backwards, thrown off balance by the intensity of his attacker. The masked man advanced on him, using Erik’s surprise to his advantage, pushing him closer and closer towards a small pond in the middle of the mostly-deserted area he had chosen for their duel.

He stabbed and hacked towards Erik with such precision that Erik was taken aback by how well trained this common chimney sweep was. Feeling his boots slide further down the embankment towards the pond, Erik desperately swiped at his opponent, causing him to jump momentarily backwards. Erik cried out in triumph.

Unfortunately, it seemed that both Erik and his opponent had miscalculated the firmness of the ground. Both of them struggled for footing, fighting a losing battle against the mud and gravity. The smaller man pinwheeled his arms helplessly before slamming into Erik with a small “Umff!”, sword slipping from his grasp. Thrown completely off balance, Erik also dropped his weapon, and they both fell backwards unceremoniously into the duck pond with a loud splash.

Erik was the first to stand, spluttering as he disentangled himself from his opponent. In the scuffle, the man’s mask had slipped, and Erik stood flabbergasted as he straightened up to see not Henry the chimney sweep, but Charles Xavier looking wetly at him.

Charles shifted his feet nervously, but didn’t break eye contact. “You would have killed him,” he explained feebly.

Erik just stood agape, watching pond water drip from the tips of Charles’s dark curls and the point of his nose and his chin. A droplet ran down to the corner of his mouth and his tongue darted out to catch it, clear blue eyes never leaving grey. Erik gulped.

Henry and Alex rushed over to the bank unmasked, their shouting breaking both Erik and Charles out of their revere. Charles tore his gaze away from Erik.

“It’s alright, Henry,” he shouted to his friend as he waded back to shore. “We’re both fine.”

Erik followed behind him, accepting the hand that Alex offered, stepping out of the pond with a resounding squelch. He grimaced, before rounding on Henry. “Quite the little stunt you pulled there.”

Henry looked abashed, hunching his broad shoulders and casting his light blue eyes downward. Charles spoke up for him. “Look, it’s all a big misunderstanding I’m afraid,” he said, a hint of antagonism slipping into his voice. “I assure you, your designs on my sister will not be challenged in any further way, Signor Salvito. Good day.” He bowed curtly before turning on his heel, dragging Henry behind him as he walked swiftly towards one of the exits of the park.

Erik stood frozen for a moment, feeling a bit like he had just been slapped in the face. Finally he came to his senses and hurried after Charles, grabbing him by the crook of his elbow when he caught up to him.

“Wait,” he pleaded, gently pulling Charles around to face him. “I’m sorry.”

Charles stopped, but his face was still set in a determinedly neutral expression, betrayed completely by the dislike radiating off him in waves. “Yes, Signor?”

Erik didn’t quite know how to continue; all he knew is that he didn’t want his encounter with Charles to end like this, in animosity. “I understand,” he said hastily. “I just. I was wondering... We barely know anything about each other. I mean, I hardly know anything about your family. And I’m afraid you’ll catch a cold if you don’t get something warm in you…” He held back a grin, but only just. “Please. Let me take you out for tea. It’ll warm you up and we can get to know each other better.”

He realized as he finished that he still had a grip on Charles’s arm. He quickly let go, and instead opted for his most winning smile. “I am going to be your brother-in-law after all.” Charles looked searchingly back at him, one eyebrow quirked in suspicion.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he said. He could hear Alex trotting up behind him, muddied sword in hand.

Charles frowned. “I suppose that would be alright,” he replied, and Erik had to resist the urge to jump in the air and whoop.

Erik turned to Alex. “Right then,” he handed his friend the scabbard. “You can take this home, Alex, that’s a good man. Signor Xavier and I will be speaking about family matters alone.”

Alex looked rather astounded, but gathered up Erik’s mask and weapon before nodding brusquely and starting off towards Casanova’s apartments. Henry took Charles’s things and gave him a quick bow.

“We’ll talk later, Henry,” Charles promised, smiling paternally at the taller, younger man before he turned on his heel and trotted off in the direction of Marko’s house.

Erik and Charles found a small outdoor café, one that Erik had never attended before, and thus, could not be thrown out of for repeatedly “forgetting” to pay his bill. They settled into an uncomfortable silence while they waited for their tea. Erik’s clothes were still a little wet, so the only sound between them was the apathetic drip drip of the last of the pond water dropping from his sleeves. When the waiter arrived with their drinks at last, Erik took a sip before clearing his throat nervously.

“So, Signor Xavier.” Charles looked up from his teacup. “You’ve heard what I do. What is it exactly you do? Are you still a student?”

Charles frowned slightly at him, and Erik immediately felt he’d accidentally connected two and two for the young professor. If Charles remembered that their first encounter had been when he, Casanova, was being captured by the police, the whole game would be up. Erik would be in a scandal, as would all the Xavier family. Not only would Erik probably be forced to leave Venice and break his promise to his mother, but Raven and Charles would most likely be the brunt of jokes in their highbrow social circles for the rest of their lives.

Luckily, Charles did not react any further. “Not quite,” he simply said. “I’m a Professor of Biology at the University.”

Erik let out the breath he had been holding in the form of a chuckle. “Are you one of those people that says that their students teach them?”

Charles broke into an unexpected smile at this and he sat up straighter. “Yes, in fact, I am. I’ve been working on a new project. I want women to be able to attend the university alongside men. Raven has always wanted to be able to go, and I feel awful being part of the very institution that denies that she could have any possible value to society. In fact…” Charles broke off suddenly, his smile turning apologetic. “I’m sorry, I’m probably boring you to tears.”

Erik shook his head and returned the grin. “No, by all means, please continue.” It was true Erik had already heard Charles talk about his crusade, but he found the man so endlessly fascinating, and his already astoundingly blue eyes seemed to glow even brighter whenever he talked about something for which he was truly passionate. Erik watched him with rapt attention as he continued.

“Well, I’ve been charting the progress of my male students against the progress of some women that I tutor privately, Raven included. The women I teach are learning just as quickly as the men, in most cases even more quickly. The notion that women’s minds are just too weak for University isn’t going to be able to hold up much longer.” Charles’s grin was absolutely luminous, and Erik couldn’t help but mirror it.

“So you’re a great believer in women’s rights then?”

“Of course!” Charles replied, nodding vigorously. “Growing up with Raven… well… it’s apparent that all these superstitions that women are weak or simple are a load of crock. I believe the first step is to educate women so they can prove to the world they’re better than just doing housework or sitting around looking beautiful.”

“I wonder,” Erik said with an air of intrigue that concealed that this was going to be a rhetorical question, “Have you heard of the philosopher Bernardo Guardi?”

Charles’s smile suddenly became somewhat fixed before slipping from his face entirely. “Yes, yes of course,” he said, gazing at his saucer as he took another gulp of tea. “Who hasn’t in this city?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t read any of his work, but I hear his ideas are quite popular among the ladies,” Erik offered. “Have you ever spoken with him?”

Charles seemed transfixed by the teapot between them on the table. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying “No, I regret I have not. I’m sure it would be a fine conversation.” He looked up at Erik suddenly, smiling apologetically. “I’m afraid I must go, I just remembered I said I would tutor Raven on the Greeks at two this afternoon and it is nearly two now.” In a flash, he stood and bowed to Erik. “Goodbye, Signor Salvito. Thank you for the tea.”

Erik rose to meet him. “I trust I’ll see you soon?” he asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

“Of course,” Charles replied over his shoulder. He gave an unceremonious wave before bolting from the café. Erik slumped back into his chair, absolutely dumbfounded.


	5. Chapter 5

The day before Carnivale, ten days after the bungled duel, Erik took tea with Raven Xavier in the garden of her family’s apartments. They sat sipping their drinks companionably at the table and chairs under the boughs of the largest elm in the garden. Raven was very beautiful, and once she opened up to Erik, easy to talk to. Often he would catch himself thinking of what a good friend she was to him, before remembering that she was going to be his wife. For some reason this thought always made his heart sink, and whenever he looked into her pale blue eyes, he found himself wishing they were someone else’s; a deeper, sharper ocean of blue that he could drown in.

They had been silent while they started their tea; the only sounds had been the song of the family of swifts living in the branches above them. However, feeling suddenly unpleasantly tense as Raven’s bashful eyes met his, Erik blurted out “I haven’t seen Charles around today.”

Raven’s brow knitted. “Well, no I would suppose not,” she replied, sighing and setting down her tea. “He’s been rather distant with me lately.”

“Really?” Charles being distant to Raven was something to note. It was evident from the way they acted around each other that Charles and Raven were extremely close. Erik understood that they had been nearly inseparable since Raven’s birth when Charles was four. Even now that Raven was eighteen and getting ready to be married, their relationship was still as strong as ever. Erik found it hard to believe that Charles was pushing away at this crucial moment in Raven’s life.

“I suppose it’s because his fiancée is coming tomorrow.”

Erik almost spit out his mouthful of tea, and in his effort to contain himself, started choking on it instead. He gurgled for a moment, Raven looking concernedly on.

“Are you alright?” She started to get up, but Erik waved a hand to gesture that he was fine. When the worst of the coughing was over, he turned to Raven again, eyes streaming.

“He has a fiancée?” He asked, resting his chin on his fist as nonchalantly as was possible after the display that had just happened.

Raven nodded gravely. “Yes. Her name is Emma Frost. She’s from back home in England.” She looked around furtively before continuing in a whisper, leaning across the table conspiratorially. “He’s been betrothed to her for ages. Since he was about ten, I think, after mother re-married Signor Marko and he gambled away almost all our fortune in under a year.”

A swelling of red-hot anger grew in the pit of Erik’s stomach. He had never liked Kurt Marko much, but now, knowing that he had ruined the happiness of two of the people he was growing to hold the most dear, he felt the urge to take justice into his own hands. Erik had only known the Xaviers for a grand total of twelve days, but nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel a deep connection with them. Every afternoon for the past week and a half, on the pretense of becoming more acquainted with his future in-laws, Erik would arrive at Marko’s house, usually with a bouquet of roses for Raven and a winning smile for Charles. The young professor, initially as stand-offish as the first day Erik had turned up on his doorstep, had eventually softened. Erik liked to think it was his charm, but it seemed that Charles’s opinion of him was tied almost exclusively to Raven’s, and since Raven had accepted him, Charles did as well.

The three of them had spent the past ten days in an odd sort of pattern. Erik would show up around midday with the flowers, and the maid would show him into the sitting room. They would occupy the time before tea was served in the garden either by chatting about their respective lives (Erik learned quite a lot about Charles’s work at the university one day when he went off on a tangent about the recent advances in biology, his hands waving about expressively as Erik watched him talking about bean plants with what he hoped was not an overly affectionate expression), or sometimes they spoke of the excitement of the upcoming Carnivale.

One afternoon Raven gave Erik and Charles a private concert on her pianoforte. Her hands ghosted expertly over the keys, producing soaring, happy melodies as her hands traveled up to the higher notes, and then suddenly contrasting to dark, deep chords when her fingers flew back down the keyboard. The music seemed to fill the entire room with its story, wafting out the open window, giving the passersby on the street across the canal a brief taste of Raven’s talent. From his seat opposite the window, Erik saw a lanky figure covered in soot leaning on the side of the bridge connecting the Xavier’s street to the neighboring one, listening so eagerly to the music coming through the window that if someone were to accidentally jostle him on their way across the bridge, they would surely knock him into the dirty canal water below.

The sixth day of their acquaintance, Erik’s favourite day, Raven had been out at the market with some friends when Erik arrived, armed with his traditional bouquet and some chocolates he had picked up as an afterthought.

“Signora Raven is not in at the moment,” the maid had said timidly. “But Signor Xavier is. If you would like to wait with him-”

“Yes, yes,” Erik said, straightening himself and trying to keep the nerves that were suddenly buzzing through him from showing on his face. “Thank you, that’s most kind.”

Charles had seemed surprised when he saw Erik, smiling nervously in the doorway, but had grinned back, gesturing for him to come in as he stood, bowing politely before sitting back down in his armchair. “Raven’s out I’m afraid,” Charles said, marking the page of the book he had been reading by tagging down the edge. “I’ll try to be good company.”

“You’ll be perfectly adequate I’m sure,” Erik said, his smile broadening.   
Charles smiled sheepishly back, casting his eyes about the room in search of something to change the subject. His eyes lighted on something in the corner, his expression brightening as he turned to look back at Erik. “Do you play chess?”

Erik and Charles had politely declined the maid’s quiet offer of tea in the gardens with Signor Marko halfway through the first game, too engrossed in what they were doing to care about offending him.

“Marko’s a bore anyway,” Erik whispered conspiratorially when the maid had bowed herself from the room.

Charles put a hand to his heart in an expression of mock offense. “Signor Salvito,” he said, his blue eyes wide. “I am appalled at your conduct.”

Erik laughed, tossing his head back and not noticing when Charles’s eyes traced the line of his throat. Charles shook himself, swallowing quietly before saying “Also, check.” Erik stopped laughing and turned to frown at the board as a mischievous grin spread across Charles’s face.

Raven returned three games later as the sun was beginning to hover over the horizon, signalling dinner time. Both she and Charles had insisted Erik stay for supper, and he had graciously accepted. Luckily, Marko had been called out to dine with some important merchants from Genoa, and was not present at the table. Erik had stayed long past the dessert of lavender cakes, talking animatedly with Charles and Raven until the only light outside came from the oil burning streetlamps. When he got home, he had hardly listened to Alex’s reprimands for missing both his fitting for his new suit for Carnivale, and the magnificent dinner he had “slaved over, really, Giacomo, slaved over, it was a work of art and you missed it! I may not be as beautiful as Signora Xavier, but I think I deserve a little appreciation every once in a while.”

However, despite Alex’s supsicions, it was not thoughts of Raven that filled his head as he settled under his duvet that night. Rather, his mind kept fleeing back to those stolen chess games with Charles; the way his eyes lit up when he realized a hole in Erik’s defense, the way his fingers absentmindedly caressed Erik’s captured queen as he pondered his next move... Groaning, Erik tossed himself onto his back, wishing he could quietly clamber into Charles’s open window, trying to ignore warmth pooling in his stomach as he imagined what he might do once he was there in Charles’s bed.

Now, sitting across from Raven, hearing her speak of the evils Marko had committed against her and Charles, his mind flew to that day again, but mixed with the happiness was a feeling of disgust. How could Marko ever have done anything to hurt the well-being of two of the most beautiful people he had ever met? His anger and confusion must have shown on his face, because Raven’s expression turned to one of hopeless disappointment.

“I appreciate your concern,” she went on, leaning back in her chair once more, “but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Charles’s fiancée has a massive fortune, and once we’re… you know… all our previous wealth will be restored, and Marko won’t have to go around pretending he isn’t bankrupt anymore.” Erik’s stomach sank even lower. He had had to lie to Marko about his financial status in order to win him over for Raven’s hand. Now he understood why. When Marko found out that instead of being a wealthy financial advisor, Erik was in fact a penniless semi-fugitive libertine, the Xavier name was sure to be tarnished even further than it already was. Not knowing what else to do, Erik covered Raven’s hand where it rested on the lace tablecloth with his own.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed. She smiled at him before pulling her hand away from his. Whatever was between them, it was not love, and Raven seemed to abhor anything that resembled an attempt at physical affection. Erik assumed it was because she had no control over her marriage to him, but she did have control over whether he could touch her or not. He respected this. Erik had never forced himself on anyone, as Casanova or as Erik Lehnsherr, or, for that matter, as Lupo Salvito. To be honest, he didn’t mind her stand-offishness in the slightest.

“Anyway,” Raven said, smiling in an attempt to lighten the conversation. “I think that Charles has been sneaking off to his secret lover before his fiancée arrives.”

Erik gaped. First a fiancée, now a secret lover? He knew there was so much more to discover about Charles Xavier, but from what he had learned in these past few minutes it seemed that the unassuming, doe-eyed professor could have given Casanova a run for his money. Raven giggled at Erik’s completely staggered expression.

“I know, he doesn’t seem the type, does he?” Erik could only nod, dumbfounded, and glad that Raven continued the topic herself. “He thinks I don’t notice, but you can always hear him scribbling away at night when he thinks everyone else is asleep. He must be writing love letters, because he always dashes off the next morning with a small stack of them, and I know he’s not going to the University because he doesn’t take his wig and gown.” Raven suddenly broke off, and affixed a smile to her face as she saw someone enter the gardens behind Erik.

“Charles!” She gushed, rising from her chair.

Erik’s heart did a little somersault as he stood and wheeled around to see Charles smiling back at his sister as he strode towards them across the well-manicured lawn, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand.

“Raven,” he returned, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek. He turned to Erik. “Signor Salvito.” They bowed to each other cordially.

“Please, call me E- call me Lupo,” Erik said, catching himself just in time. Raven didn’t even bat an eye, too preoccupied with her joy at seeing her brother, but an odd look flashed across Charles’s face for just a moment. Erik mentally kicked himself for being so transparent. He had never slipped up in his life, not to Tony, not even to Alex. There was something about Charles that made him instantly open up, flinging wide doors that he thought had been rusted shut in his mind for almost eleven years.

Charles nodded, obviously unconvinced, before turning back to Raven. “I just dropped by to say that I’m going out, but I’ll be home before dinner. Is there anything you need from the market? I’ll be headed that way.”

Raven glanced pointedly to Erik. “Not going to the University? Isn’t that some research you have there?”

Charles shifted the papers from his left hand to his right uncomfortably. “No, I’m not. You don’t need anything then?”

Raven shook her head. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He gave her another swift kiss on the cheek, and Erik another polite bow before exiting the garden through the side gate. Erik knew he didn’t have much time.

“I’m afraid I too must leave you,” he said quickly.

Raven looked taken aback. “You can’t finish tea?”

Erik shook his head, grabbing his walking stick from the side of his chair. “I’m afraid not,” he continued, inventing wildly. “You see I’ve got to go to the tailors for the final fitting of my suit for Carnivale before they close. Until tomorrow, Ms Xavier.”

Erik bowed low to her, and she curtsied to him incredulously as he walked as fast as possible, without arousing any more suspicion, to the door of the house. If he ran through the house and around to the side street he would probably be able to catch up to Charles before he took another road. Thankfully there were no servants present in the wide hallway, so he sprinted down it and shot out of the front door, careening around the side of the house to see Charles almost at the end of the side street.

Erik slowed to a brisk walk far enough behind Charles to not arouse suspicion. Charles seemed to be quite on edge; he kept shooting furtive glances behind him and to the sides, as though someone was looking for him. Erik was confused and intrigued. Charles didn’t seem the type to be in any illegal dealings, but his uneasiness made it look as if that was exactly what he was up to. Of course, he would behave like this if he were cheating on a fiancée with someone else, Erik reasoned. Charles was far too noble for his own good.

Erik’s inconspicuousness was threatened several times, as Charles kept taking secret back passageways created by narrow gaps between buildings where there were almost no people. Several times Erik had to duck behind a hedge or lean unassumingly against a doorway in order to avoid Charles’s suspicion. Finally, after almost ten minutes of tiptoeing and dodging, Erik’s quarry arrived at its destination.

Looking up at the sign on the building in front of him, Erik saw he was standing outside the publishers where he had almost run into Charles that first, eventful day. So those papers couldn’t have been love letters as Raven had assumed. Erik began laughing, great peals of relief-ridden giggles, before he finally had to calm himself down lest he attract any more attention from the passersby. Straightening his suit and smoothing his hair unconsciously, Erik took a fortifying breath and entered the shop.

A little bell jangled to announce his arrival, but no one looked up. The employees were much too busy helping a barrage of women customers, while even more women were clustered around a table stacked high with books emblazoned “The Hopes of Women in the World of Men, by Bernardo Guardi” in gold lettering. Erik scoured around for Charles, his eyes finally lighting on the young man, who, still clutching his papers, was now glaring determinedly at the shop owner Erik recognized from before.

Erik edged closer before ducking behind a stack of books and grabbing another Guardi book off the shelf, pretending to peruse it, just as Charles caught the eye of the owner. The rather frazzled looking man nodded tiredly to his last customer and rounded the counter to talk to Charles in a heated whisper.

Erik couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but he caught snatches of “not ready”, “-had no choice! I heard the Inquisitor is arriving tomorrow-!”, “more important than either of our lives-”. It seemed the store owner had finally had enough, for when Erik peeked around the side of the bookcase, he saw him marching back behind the counter, motioning for more women to come forward with their copies of the new Guardi book.

He turned to glance at Charles, and nearly jumped out of his skin when his eyes drifted only inches to his left to see Charles standing at the edge of the bookshelf.

“Charles Xavier! How odd finding you here!” Erik hastily amended his look of shock into the most winning smile he could muster.

Charles quirked an eyebrow in unconvinced mirth. “Yes, how very odd,” he replied, grinning back, much to Erik’s surprise and delight. “Doing a bit of eavesdropping, my friend?”

Erik chuckled nervously. “No, no, not exactly…” He waved a hand dismissively, the way he had seen Tony do many times. “I was simply…” He looked around, grasping at straws, until his eyes found the table filled with Guardi books. “I was simply stopping in to see how my new book is doing!”

Charles eyebrows shot up in surprise and his smile widened. “Your new book?” He looked past Erik, eyes flicking from table to table, presumably searching out Erik’s psudonym. “Well which one is it?”

Erik grinned mysteriously at him, dropping the book he was holding carelessly on the shelf before grabbing his elbow to draw him over to the gaggle of women surrounding the Guardi stand. “This one,” he whispered in Charles’s ear. “It’s just a pen-name, but you must promise to tell no one. Some of my ideas are, shall we say, less than savory to some of the church’s elite?”

Charles turned to Erik, their faces barely an inch apart in the crowd of women. His brow was knit in confusion. “You’re saying you’re Bernardo Guardi?” Charles murmured. His captivating eyes seemed to bore into Erik’s own as he searched for truth in Erik’s words.

Erik’s breath hitched in his throat. He felt a sort of magnetism pulling his face and body closer to the smaller man’s. “Yes,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible over the indulgent giggles of the women reading around them. He wasn’t really sure what he was agreeing to anymore; Charles’s too-red lips were so close, and they were singing to be brushed with his own.

There was a rush of Charles’s breath; warm and promising, dancing against Erik’s mouth, and then Xavier had completely pulled away as he reached through the crowd of females to pick up a book. Nimble fingers glided over the smooth gold of the title and author, mapping out the letters almost longingly. “‘The Hopes of Women in the World of Men,’” he muttered.

It seemed Erik had inadvertently stumbled across the opportunity of his life. How had he not thought of this before? Now that he was Guardi, he could speak to Charles as an equal about a subject that never failed to bring out the beauty in Charles’s entire being. He could bask in that radiance for hours while Charles talked philosophy and he pretended to know something about women besides their anatomy. A grin broke across his face at the prospect. Gently, he eased the book out of Charles’s hands.

“Here,” he said, walking briskly up to the counter, Charles in hot pursuit. “Since you seem to like it so much I’ll buy it for you.”

“Please, Signor Salvito,” Charles piped, grabbing Erik’s arm in protest. “You don’t have to-”

Erik smiled at him. “It’s my treat, really. Once you’ve read it, perhaps we can discuss our philosophies.”

Charles let out a somewhat desperate laugh, the noise sounded strangled in his throat. “Oh… Alright, I suppose.”

As soon as Erik paid for the book, Charles bid him a polite good day, still seemingly highly amused and perplexed. Erik took this as a very good sign. It seemed he had gained the approval of the object of his affections at last.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik had purchased all the Guardi books the small bookshop had to offer. The look on Alex’s face as he had burst into the apartment, arms laden with parchment-bound stacks of pamphlets and philosophical tomes was one Erik would be able to picture until the day he died.

“Really, Alex, pick your jaw up off the floor and help me with these,” he chuckled, letting out a relieved sigh as Alex took several parcels from him. They both tottered to the coffee table in the middle of the living room area of Casanova’s apartments, depositing their burdens on top of it’s polished mahogany surface.

Erik sank into one of the armchairs. “You shouldn’t look so surprised,” he said, watching Alex unwrap the books with a look of pure stupefaction. “It’s not like I don’t read.”

“No,” Alex allowed. “But nothing beyond those horrible penny dreadfuls.” He glanced up at Erik, suddenly smiling knowingly. “This wouldn’t happen to be an attempt to look more learned for your darling fiancée, now would it?”

Erik shrugged noncommittally. “Not exactly.”

Alex arched an eyebrow, but as Erik didn’t pursue the subject further, neither did he. “I suppose your business is your own,” he said simply. “My only request is that you don’t make it a habit of buying expensive books which you’ll probably only half-way understand. If that.”

Erik snorted. “Don’t worry, Alex, I won’t bankrupt us.”

“Bankrupt us further,” Alex corrected. Erik grimaced and reached over for a smallish looking book in lieu of replying.

“Leave me to read in peace,” he chided, waving Alex away.

Erik spent the rest of the day pouring over what must have been Guardi’s entire collection. The man, whoever he was, was absolutely brilliant, his use of language entirely captivating. If you put two minds like Guardi’s and Charles’s together, he mused, the University would have no choice but to accept Raven and all the other women in Venice, such was the passion behind his argument. Erik almost felt guilty at impersonating this great man, but it was difficult to feel remorse for something that would bring him closer to Charles. His mind raced as he read, planning his discussion with Charles. As he thought, his ideas grew wilder and wilder. Finally, he decided he would speak to Charles at Carnivale. Hopefully their discussion would lead to more than just speaking.

He read and schemed long into the night, barely touching the dinner Alex brought for him, finally deciding, at half-past three, that if he was to be of any use for Carnivale he would have to force himself to sleep. He dragged himself to bed and flopped down, fully clothed, on top of the duvet.

~

Chief Inspector Rogers’s day had not started off well. He had woken up at dawn after only a few hours of sleep, having spent the better part of the night going over the details of security for Carnivale with Prince Antony. The Prince had, as always, been intentionally unhelpful, pointedly pretending to doze off several times throughout their conversation and making the Inspector repeat everything he had said over the past few minutes with a “Sorry, Rogers, but your voice, it just makes me so drowsy. I’m afraid I haven’t taken in anything you’ve said at all.”

In addition to his late night, Rogers had donned his best overcoat so he wouldn’t have to go home and change before Carnivale. Upon crossing one of the narrow canals, however, a carriage had rocketed past him, nearly knocking him over and splashing grimy rainwater all over him. When he had finally arrived at the station, one of his most trusted officers had sidled up to him and whispered urgently that a boat from the Vatican had docked at the pier late last night. All of this spelled trouble.

Barking for someone to get him a strong cup of coffee, Rogers had retreated to his office at the back of the building. He spent about ten minutes rifling through extensive paperwork. Luckily his workload tonight would be much less hectic. During Carnivale it was an unspoken law that all transgressions would be forgotten. Tonight, Rogers would finally be able to have some peace.

He was just wondering where the hell his secretary was with his coffee when the door of his office burst open. Before he could do anything other than shout “What do you think you’re doing?!” a pair of arms had grabbed him and pulled him from his desk roughly, and another two men were sliding all his papers from his desk, replacing them with new books and a gaudy crucifix. Roger’s stomach sank when he saw the bejeweled cross. He turned to look at the doorway, where a tall figure stood majestically, watching the scene unfurl before him.

The man was clothed in the deep purple and black robes associated with the Vatican, another gaudy cross dangling from a gold chain around his neck. His light brown hair was coiffed with the utmost care and precision, and he held himself with an overwhelming air of self-importance. There was no doubt in Rogers’s mind that this was the new Grand Inquisitor. He let out a strangled squeak as the man turned to him.

“Chief Inspector Rogers, I presume?” He said regally. Rogers only nodded, unable to form words. This did not seem to perturb the Grand Inquisitor in any way, for he continued immediately. “I am the new Grand Inquisitor Shaw, I’ve been sent from the Vatican to take over your station.”

Shaw swooped around the desk and sat down in Roger’s chair, frowning and turning to a dark-haired man that had helped clear off the desk. “Janos, get me a cushion,” he instructed, and the man exited the room. Shaw turned back to Rogers, who was still being held rather too firmly by another one of his men. “I’m afraid the Vatican is rather unsatisfied with your reports as of late, especially considering your numerous captures and releases of one Giacomo Casanova, and your inability to silence the heretic Bernardo Guardi.”

Rogers didn’t know how to respond. He opened and closed his mouth rather feebly several times, before Shaw held up a hand for him to stop. “No matter, you have been reassigned.”

“Where?” Rogers spluttered, struggling vainly against the arms that held him.

Shaw smile made Rogers’s blood run cold. “To the natives of Ecuadorian region,” he replied lightly, leaning forward over Rogers’s old desk. “Let us say they have a great hunger for justice.”

The Grand Inquisitor laughed indulgently, hearing Rogers protest all the way down the hall. The dark-haired man returned and silently handed Shaw his pillow, which he took and sat on, sinking back into the chair once more with a sigh.

“Now, Janos,” he said, motioning for his servant to pick up a few of the papers that had been pushed off the desk. “Let us see if Rogers had any records of one Casanova or our friend the heretic.”

~

Erik was awoken what seemed like seconds after he had fallen asleep when Alex began beating a frying pan with a wooden spoon by his ear.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” He crowed more triumphantly than anyone should sound that early in the morning. “Today is the big day!”

Erik groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “Wake me up when the fireworks start.”

“Not a chance,” Alex replied, ripping the pillow away from Erik. “You promised you would have tea with the Xaviers in two hours, and you have to be presentable by then.”

Erik arrived at the Xavier’s right on schedule, thanks mostly to sheer willpower on Erik’s part, and Alex dreaming up inventive ways to punish his employer with the wooden spoon if he did not stop lazing around. He rapped on the door with the giant gold knocker. The door opened, and the maid, who blushed immediately upon seeing him, showed him into the apartment and down the hall into the sitting room.

Erik bowed in thanks to her, and she curtsied quickly before scurrying on to some other part of the house. Erik smiled, and ducked into the parlor, the grin dropping off his face for a split second when he saw the party sitting around the small tea table.

Marko was there, of course, and Raven and Charles. Erik, however, was not expecting to see the fourth member of their party. She was pale and very beautiful, with blonde curls cascading down from a very intricate knot at the crown of her head. She was dressed in a cream gown with lots of ornate embroidery on the bodice, and she wore a pale sapphire around her neck. Erik looked from Charles to the woman questioningly. Charles’s light blush and downcast eyes affirmed his suspicions.

“Emma Frost,” Erik chimed, his smile transforming into more of a predatory bearing of teeth.

She smiled evenly back at him. “And you must be Signor Salvito. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Marko stood and walked over to Erik, clapping him on the back in greeting and guiding him over to the table, where everyone rose. Erik kissed both Raven and Emma on the hand graciously, and nodded to Charles, who nodded back, still not meeting Erik’s gaze. The niceties over with, they all sat down and Erik poured himself a cup of tea.

“We were just talking about Carnivale,” Marko explained. “This will be Miss Frost’s first time being in the city for the festival.”

“Oh really?” Erik replied, putting as much effort as he could into steadying his hands as he added sugar and milk to his tea. “What a shame.”

Marko hummed in agreement. “However, after the wedding, she’ll be able to attend every Carnivale her heart desires!” Marko shook Charles by his shoulder in what might have passed for affection in some parallel universe. Charles managed a small smile that did not reach his eyes and avoided replying by pouring himself more tea.

Raven hastily redirected the conversation. “Did your fitting go well?” she asked, turning to Erik.

“Yes. Everything is all ready for tonight,” he said automatically. He was trying to watch Charles out of the corner of his eye without being too conspicuous.

“How splendid,” Raven replied. Neither of them was interested in the conversation, but by the way she caught his eye, Erik could tell she was thankful for him helping divert the attention from Charles and Emma.

“What color are you wearing?” Emma asked. It was an innocent question, but Erik was immediately annoyed at her for speaking up.

“Yellow,” said Raven. “It’s customary to wear bright colors to the dance.”

Emma laughed lightly. “Wonderful. I thought I’d wear my new white dress.” She turned to Charles. “I hope you have something that would match.”

Charles tried a smile and said quietly, “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something.”

“A great many things go with white, Miss Frost,” Erik said, laughing a little too genially in order to draw attention away from Charles once more. Feeling bold he, put a light hand over Charles’s own and leaned towards him. “Maybe something to bring out those brilliant blue eyes of yours.”

Something in Charles’s anxiety-set features softened. He looked curiously at Erik as if searching for something. Before the moment could be too drawn out, Erik withdrew his hand from Charles’s and looked back at Emma. “Eh, Miss Frost?”

Marko let out a bark of laughter. “It seems you’re flattering my son’s fiancée, Signor Salvito,” he said, thankfully mistaking Erik’s comment for being directed at Emma. “Need I remind you that you have one of your own?”

“Hardly,” Erik replied, winking discreetly at Raven. “Wherever there is beauty, I feel it should be praised.”

A small snort escaped Charles. It was the most pronounced thing he had done since Erik arrived, and Erik almost jumped at the noise. He turned to ask Charles what he meant by laughing at him, but just then the maid appeared in the doorway.

“Excuse me, Signor Marko,” she said nervously, “but there is a Bishop Shaw here to see you.”

Marko let out a delighted “Ah!” and stood swiftly from his chair, gliding to the doorway where a tall man stood, dressed in papal purple, wearing a loud crucifix and a supercilious smile. Erik and Charles froze. Raven looked to her brother, wondering what was the matter, but she did not meet his eyes as she expected for he was sharing a look of alarming intensity with Erik. If Raven didn’t know better, she would have thought they were speaking to each other through some kind of mind-meld.

“Charles?” Raven asked quietly. Looking startled, Charles wheeled around to catch her eye. “What’s going-?” But her question was cut short as Marko led the newcomer over to their table and everyone rose politely.

“Bishop, these are my step-children and their fiancées,” Marko said, gesturing to each pairing as he introduced them. “Charles Xavier and Emma Frost, and Raven Xavier and Lupo Salvito.” Erik bowed low when his alias was said, but his smile was too predatory to be natural.

“What brings you to Venice, Bishop?” Erik asked suddenly.

Everyone in the room turned questioningly to him. Charles looked as if someone had hit him over the head. He made a motion as if to reach out to Erik, but quickly stopped himself. Even Emma seemed taken aback by Erik’s directness.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Erik added smoothly, attempting to diffuse some of the tension in the room.

Shaw shook his head, waving away Erik’s words pompously. “Not at all, my good man, I am delighted that my reputation seems to have proceeded me,” he reached down and took a jam pastry from the plate on the table. “I am here to replace Chief Inspector Rogers as Grand Inquisitor for the Vatican.”

“Really?” Erik said, his grin becoming, if possible, even more aggressive. Shaw did not seem to pick up on the anger radiating off him in waves, and neither did Marko, but everyone else in the room was transfixed by the scene unfolding before them. “Rogers is an old friend, I didn’t think he’d leave without telling me.”

Shaw laughed, and a chill almost ran up Erik’s spine, but he was too angry to be deterred. “I’m sure if he had had a choice in the matter he would have said goodbye,” he replied, taking a bite of his pastry. “However, he had to leave on short notice.”

“And miss Carnivale? What a shame!” Erik exclaimed, ignoring Charles who seemed to think that he could bore a hole in the side of Erik’s head if he stared at him long enough and with enough concentration. Seeing his efforts were futile, Charles suddenly cut in.

“Will you be joining the festivities, Bishop?” he piped, voice a shade higher than normal.

The Bishop narrowed his eyes, apparently about to say something very confidential. “I can say this because I know from my acquaintance with your step-father that you must be a trustworthy group of young people, however, you must promise to tell no one.”

“Oh, we swear it on our lives,” Erik said dramatically.

Shaw drew himself up to his full height. “I will be at Carnivale tonight, because I believe that the infamous Casanova will be attending. And, if we’re lucky, the heretic Bernardo Guardi.”

Erik seemed to freeze for a moment. “Casanova and Guardi,” he said, his smile slowly fading from his face. “Well that certainly makes sense. Although I will say, you have your work cut out for you. Nearly everyone in this city attends Carnivale.” Charles let out a sort of hysterical laugh.

“Well I’m sure if there’s anything we can do to help you, we’ll let you know, Bishop,” Marko said genially.

“Indeed,” replied Shaw. “Now I’m afraid I must go. I have some inquiries to make around the city. Good day, Signor Marko… Signor Xavier, Signor Salvito, Singora Xavier…” He stopped, his eyes lingering on Emma. “Signora Frost. Enjoy your tea.” And as soon as he had come, he was sweeping out of the room.

The tension eased noticeably for Erik, Charles, and Raven, but did not dissipate entirely. An odd, fuzzy sensation washed over Erik, and he sat down quickly. It seemed he might have gotten in a bit over his head. Feeling eyes searching for his, he turned and met Charles’s gaze. The younger man’s face was lined with worry. Erik knew that if they could speak aloud, he would be being severely reprimanded for his hubris at this very moment. He tried a smile, which got him nowhere.

Marko sat back down. “Well, that was a pleasant surprise.”

Emma made a polite, affirming noise. Raven was too preoccupied looking from Charles to Erik to answer.

“I think we should all go to Carnivale together,” Charles said abruptly.

Raven seemed to latch onto the familiarity of Charles’s suggestion. “That’s an excellent idea! Signor Salvito?”

Erik nodded, completely befuddled. “Of course. I’ll meet you here at eight.”

“Sounds splendid.” Charles sat back in his chair, a look of forced neutrality on his face.

“Perhaps we should get ready,” Erik said, standing, taking Charles’s sudden coldness as his cue to leave. “Miss Frost, I can escort you to your hotel if you would like.”

Emma rose, as did the rest of the table. “That would be wonderful, thank you,” she said. She curtsied to everyone in turn. “Thank you for the tea. I will see you tonight.” Charles managed a weak smile, and Emma turned, taking Erik’s arm. He led them out of the Xavier apartments and towards a canal. There was no way the presence of Emma Frost could deter his plans for tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone leaving kudos and comments and for reading! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I probably won't be able to update until later this week, so as thanks for your response I'm uploading two chapters tonight! :)

Charles sat on his four-poster bed, watching a completely dejected Henry pace back and forth across his bedroom floor. The tall young man had already washed and dressed for the night of festivities, the soot washing away to reveal dark brown hair and soft, almost puppy-like features, which were now contorted into a look of confusion and vulnerability.

“I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Henry continued from some unspoken train of thought. “Obviously she was going to go with Signor Salvito, how could she go with me?”

Charles tried to ignore the little flip his stomach did when his friend mentioned his sister’s fiancé. No, that would not do at all. Instead of speaking, he trained his face into a grimace of agreed disappointment. Henry obviously did not want his thoughts to be interrupted.

Charles slid over to give the younger man room when he sank onto Charles’s bed, flopping back against the mattress miserably. “I was so stupid not to ask her sooner.”

“No, my friend,” Charles said, patting Henry comfortingly on the arm. “There’s no way any of us could have known that Lupo Salvito would walk into our lives.” He grinned a little ruefully. Indeed, the presence of Lupo Salvito was not one Charles had ever expected, and he would never admit to Henry or to anyone else that that presence brought him more joy and more confusion than he could have ever expected. But now was not the time to linger on these feelings; Henry needed him now and he would be there to support him.

Charles’s frown suddenly dissipated. Thinking of Signor Salvito had given him an idea. “Henry!” he said, shaking his friend, who had thrown an arm over his eyes, blocking the fading sunlight filtering through Charles’s open window in a gesture of defeat.

Henry stared. “What?” he asked, raising his head off the bed to take in Charles’s absolutely radiant smile. “What are you so happy about?”

“I’ve had an idea,” Charles crowed. He jumped off the bed and went to his walk-in closet.

Henry frowned again. “None of your clothes will fit me,” he said crossly. “You’re too short.”

“I’m not looking for clothes!” Charles shot back over his shoulder as he riffled through a pile in the corner of the closet. A second later he stood up, smiling triumphantly as he waved a gold mask, much like the ones they had both worn to the duel, over his head. “You, my friend,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “are going to Carnivale incognito.”

~

Erik’s brain had been whirling non-stop since his encounter with Bishop Shaw, and now, as he sat in the gondola with Emma Frost, pretending to be interested in her concerns about whether or not the party was going to be to her liking, he knew exactly what he had to do to make his plans for tonight go off without a hitch. First of all, he had to get rid of Emma. There was no way the rest of his plan could proceed if she was with Charles at Carnivale; hence, why he was now crammed into a too-small boat with the very person creating all his problems.

When they finally docked next to the street where Emma was staying in a stylish hotel, Erik put his plan into action. He didn’t want to severely hurt Emma, just incapacitate her enough so that she couldn’t attend the ball that night. Assuming his most charming smile, Erik jumped up before Emma could move, planting one foot on the gondola and one on the cobbled street.

Emma stood and politely took his offered hand, stepping out to join him, but as she was switching her weight, Erik jostled the gondola just enough to send it and Emma pitching. With a small shriek, the young woman fell to the ground, half onto the sidewalk and half still in the boat. Erik knelt down with a look of concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, trying to sound alarmed.

Emma’s breath hissed in through her teeth, her brow knitted in pain. “I think I did something to my ankle,” she explained, gingerly lifting her legs from the gondola. She tried tucking them under herself to stand, but halfway through the action she stopped and cried out again.

Erik bent down and lifted her at the waist, feeling a little guilty for hurting her. After all, she hadn’t asked to be betrothed to Charles. However, it was difficult to feel completely sorry, knowing that now his plans would go off without a hitch.

He helped Emma all the way to her room, where he sent a maid for a doctor. “I’m terribly sorry,” he offered, smiling weakly down at her pale form on the bed. “I’m sure it’s only sprained.”

Emma nodded noncommittally, her jaw set in what was probably a mixture of disappointment and pain. She sighed. “Will you please tell Charles that I’m sorry but I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to the ball tonight?” she asked evenly. “And will you… explain?”

“Of course,” Erik replied. “Is there anything else I can do for you Signora Frost?”  
Emma shook her head. Erik understood and gave her a swift bow and an even swifter “Good evening” before striding from the room.

The sun was already close to setting and he wasn’t even dressed for Carnivale yet; Erik would have to hurry if he was going to make it to the Xavier’s house by eight. Luckily, when he reached his apartments, he saw Alex had already laid out his outfit for him.

Alex looked at the clock impatiently as Erik hastily pulled on the new suit. “Eight o’clock you said?” He let out a slightly hysterical breath. “Well you’d better hurry. And there’ll be no supper for you either, you’ll just have to eat the hors d’oeuvres when you get there.”

Erik grunted in response, doing up the last fastenings on his vest before running to his bedroom to examine himself in his full-length mirror. In the last few rays of sunlight, Erik could make out the colors of what was probably now his best suit. He had picked the blue for obvious reasons, but was glad to see that the gold embroidery was intricate enough to hide his inconsistency with his date’s color scheme. If worst came to worst he could say he picked the colors because of her eyes, not her brothers. Unable to contain his grin, he bounded back into the living room.

“Aren’t you coming, Alex?” he asked, snatching up his cane as he spun about the room excitedly.

Alex lowered his eyebrows, shooting a look of suspicion at Erik. He crossed his arms. “Not yet,” he replied huffily. “I’m eating the dinner I took so long to make you, and then I will be joining the festivities. Although I’m not sure you’ll notice me the way you’re dancing around now. A little love-struck, are we?”

Erik paused, grinned at him. “Did you do that errand I sent you on?” He asked innocently.

“Yes, although what exactly you’re going to be doing in a-”

“My business and mine alone!” Erik interrupted. “But thank you.” Feeling daring, he rushed up to Alex and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Alex spluttered, wiping vigorously at his cheek. “What the-?” he began, but when he looked up, Erik had gone. He stood there for a moment, looking from the door to his hand, before finally giving up on trying to figure out what had just happened and making his way to the kitchen.

~

Charles had taken the news of Emma’s injury in stride. In fact, something like relief had flitted over his features for a brief moment before he frowned and replied that he was very sorry and would send her his condolences before they left. After all the niceties had been attended to, they had endured a rather grating carriage ride, filled with Marko’s insipid anecdotes about previous celebrations, and finally ended up at the palace where the ball was being held.

Erik hopped out of the carriage first, holding out a hand to help Raven. She took it gratefully. Her yellow dress was absolutely stunning, and luckily, matched the gold in Erik’s embroidery very well, but it was also heavier than the ones she was used to wearing. When everyone was free from the carriage, Erik offered Raven his right arm, which she took timidly, and they all four set off.

A whirlwind of sights and sounds bombarded them as they entered the gilded gold doors of the dance hall. Placed on a low stage at the back of the hall was a small orchestra. They were just ending a song, and the conductor was motioning for them to turn their pages. Groups of people stood chattering away happily with one another, while a few stragglers pulled their partners onto the dance floor where a new reel was just starting. While none of Erik’s party had opted for masks, there were a fair amount of men and women moving through the crowd with them on.

Erik turned to his left and saw Charles smiling in wonder at the spectacle in front of them. “There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” he said quietly.

Charles met Erik’s gaze, his blue eyes dancing with happiness. He shook his head. “No, my friend,” he replied. “There isn’t.”

In order to resist leaning over and closing the gaps between their lips, Erik turned to Raven. He was opening his mouth to ask her to dance when a tall young man in a green vest and gold mask walked up to them. “Excuse me,” he began gruffly, “but I was wondering if I might have a turn with this young woman?”

A little bewildered, Erik turned to Raven questioningly. She seemed completely awestruck, but nodded back to Erik slowly.

“She’s all yours,” Erik replied. Raven let go of his arm in favor of the mysterious stranger’s. He led her out to the dance floor where they fell easily in step with the others in the line.  
Erik grinned at the sight of them, and when he looked at Charles, saw he was beaming at them as well. Another look around and Erik noticed that Marko seemed to have wandered off to chat with a group of important-looking men sitting at a table near the orchestra. It was now or never.

Summoning all his nerve, Erik leaned towards Charles conspiratorially. “It seems we are both without dancing partners.”

Charles nodded. “Not the best situation to find yourself in at a ball.”

“I would quite agree,” Erik said, chuckling. “Shall we step outside? Perhaps if you’ve finished my book we could have our discussion?”

Charles, who was absorbed in watching his sister and her partner orbit around each other on the dance floor as they talked animatedly, turned to Erik questioningly. He seemed to come to himself again. “Oh! Your book! Right! Yes… let’s… go outside.”

Erik suddenly felt that his stomach was filled with butterflies as they made their way out onto the veranda. If this whole thing fell through, or if he had misjudged his connection with Charles, this could all end very badly. If, however, everything went as well as he hoped… well, Erik didn’t know if he could bring himself to picture that just yet, not when there was a still a small margin for failure.

They walked around the balcony and down a flight of steps that led down to the gardens. Charles had been watching a particularly raucously clad group of acrobats performing wild stunts for an audience of mostly children, and so did not see the hot air balloon waiting in the middle of the gardens. As they drew further away from the crowd, however, Charles turned to say something to Erik, and his jaw dropped in amazement.


	8. Chapter 8

Erik laughed happily as Charles’s gaze fell from the hot air balloon back onto him, eyes big as saucers. “It’s good, isn’t it?” he said, letting his hand rest casually on Charles’s shoulder in the pretense of guiding him towards the structure.

“Did you do this?” Charles asked once he found his voice again. “How did you do this?”

Erik smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

The balloon was secured to the ground by four thick ropes tied to stakes that had been driven into the soft lawn. A small group of men was gathered around one of the stakes, talking and joking companionably. As Erik and Charles approached, one of the men broke away from the rest and walked up to them.

“Signor Lupo Salvito?” he asked, inclining his head politely to the pair of them.

Erik nodded and grinned broadly at him. “Yes,” he said. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long.”

The man laughed. “No, we haven’t,” he replied, smiling back amiably. “Although, with all due respect, it’s your money Signor Salvito, so I wouldn’t be complaining if we had.”

The man called back to his group of friends, ordering them to start untying the ropes that bound the hot air balloon to the ground as he led Erik and Charles to the wicker basket hanging underneath the mass of inflated red and gold canvas. Erik turned to allow Charles into the basket first; it was hovering a few feet off the ground and, unable to stop himself, he offered hand to Charles to help him in.

Charles looked at the hand almost skeptically, as if suddenly aware that this balloon ride might be more than a simple discussion of ideals. He looked up at Erik, lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. He seemed to think better of it, however, and took the offered hand, hopping up into the basket. Erik jumped in behind him.

“Right gents,” the man had returned and begun untying some of the sandbags fixed around the edge of the balloon. “It’s best not to go any higher than what getting rid of these’ll take you. Make sure to let her come down nice and slow once you’re clear of the buildings.”

Erik nodded, barely listening to him, preferring to take in the sight of Charles gazing rapturously at the balloon, standing on his tiptoes to examine the fire blazing in the thing that looked like a larger version of an oil burner that was dangling underneath the canvas. “This is amazing,” he said breathlessly to no one in particular.

Suddenly, the balloon jerked upwards, the last of the ropes having been untied. Erik fell backwards against the wicker, catching himself on the edge, while Charles sprawled to the floor with a surprised “Oomf.” Slowly, the balloon carried them higher and higher into the air until the men below were just dark specks against the green of the lawn.

Once he had regained his balance, Erik reached down to help Charles stand. “Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out to join Charles in smooth the creases in his coat and vest, their fingers brushing together. Charles looked up at him abruptly, his expression softening from one of annoyance to a gentle kind of bewilderment. Erik was caught helplessly in his gaze. Screw the plan, he should just lean over and kiss him right now before either of them had time to think. His eyelids began to flicker shut, almost of their own accord, and his stomach flipped as he leaned slightly forward.

He had never wanted to kiss someone this much before. After a lifetime of pursuing women, reveling in the chase and capture of another conquest, how could it be that this passionate young professor had changed everything? Erik had thought he knew exactly who he was: Casanova the Libertine, who for all his lust of women, had occasionally found himself drawn to the suggestively opened window of a wealthy business owner or confused young priest. Casanova, who never got attached, and certainly never waited around if the object of his desire refused to show any inkling of want in return. He had let his conquests come to him, essentially, never needing to do anything more than smile and perhaps whisper some reassurance in their ear. As soon as the first rays of light would show the next morning, he would be gone, never taking the time for anything more than mindless pleasure, and as he left, he would always assure them that they had been the one to change him, the one that truly claimed his heart.

However, since meeting Charles Xavier, Erik hadn’t visited any open windows or answered any of the invitations sent to him at his apartments. From the moment those unearthly blue eyes had locked onto his in the lecture hall of the University, Erik had been addicted irrevocably. Erik knew now that Tony’s order had made no difference; he would have always been drawn to Charles Xavier like a moth to a flame, and the most amazing part was that he didn’t even care. It didn’t matter to Erik whether or not his plan tonight worked, although he hoped against all hope that it would. It didn’t matter because even if everything failed miserably, at least Charles would be in his life. Erik would obey the Prince’s orders, and if he had to spend the rest of his life devoted to Raven, well at least that meant he would always be able to bask in the glow of Charles’s radiant vivacity. Erik had decided that wherever Charles went for the rest of his life, he would be by his side.

Erik’s moved his hand from its sturdy grip on the basket upwards to cup Charles’s cheek as they drew closer and closer together. Something in the movement seemed to jolt Charles, and he let in a sharp breath before turning away from Erik.

He went to the edge of the basket and leaned over to look at the ground below. “This is amazing,” he said shakily.

Erik took a deep breath to steady his nerves before moving to join Charles at the side of the balloon. “I’m glad you like it,” he responded, trying his best to look at the buildings and people below them and not at the man next to him. He took a rallying breath, stole a glance at Charles, and continued on. “If you’ll remember, in one of my books I said ‘A woman is air and fire.’ I thought it only fitting that our discussion take place somewhere with… similarities,” Erik tried.

Charles turned to him, perching his elbow on the edge of the balloon and resting his head on his fist. “Indeed?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes and across his soft features.

Erik smiled widely, encouraged. “Yes. You know, this is one of the first of its kind,” he continued, patting the side of the basket affectionately. “In fact, you and I may be among the first of human kind to actually fly. The design is based completely off the concept that hot hair rises, thus, a bag full of hot air must be able to fly.” He grimaced. “I guess when I put it like that it’s not quite as flattering as in my book, but you understand.”

Charles said nothing, only nodded in support.

Unable to stop himself from talking now that he had started, Erik blundered on. “I’m much more eloquent on paper as you’ve seen. I usually go through drafts and drafts until I’m satisfied with my work. Poor Alex- you know my friend Alex?- well he has to put up with my scribbling away day and night and sometimes when I read him what I’ve written he just looks at me like I’m the biggest idiot. I mean can you imagine? I’m sure if the rest of Venice heard some of the things I write they wouldn’t think I was half as brilliant as they do now.”

Throughout this whole speech, a bemused smile had slowly spread across Charles’s face. Now that Erik had run out of steam, he could do nothing but smile weakly back at him. Not knowing what else to do to keep this encounter going according to plan, Erik wracked his brain and remembered a phrase from one of Guardi’s books. If a man really wants to win the heart of a woman, he need only say this: I have too long dominated the conversation. What are your thoughts on the matter? He grasped desperately at the memory, and blurted out as suavely as he could “But I have too long dominated the conversation. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

Charles actually let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. Erik stared at him as he dissolved into the sound, until finally, Charles straightened up and rested a hand softly on Erik’s own. “Oh Signor Casanova,” he said. “I’m very flattered. But you aren’t the only one who’s been keeping secrets.”

Erik froze, but Charles continued quicky. “I’m afraid I know you aren’t Bernardo Guardi, because I am Bernardo Guardi. Frankly, I have to say I’m a little surprised that you didn’t figure that one out yourself. You did overhear me discussing the early release of my new book at the printers just before you pretended to actually be me.”

Erik opened and closed his mouth uselessly, having lost the ability to speak. Charles’s smile faded. “Don’t worry,” he said, squeezing the hand he still held reassuringly. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Although I would like to know what exactly you are up to if you’re planning on marrying my sister.”

Charles waited patiently while Erik found his voice again. “I’m so sorry, Charles,” he said finally, grasping his hand like it was air and he was drowning. “I promise I don’t mean to cause any harm. Prince Antony told me I was to get married or else the Grand Inquisitor would probably kill us both when he arrived. I picked Raven completely by accident, but I’m so glad I did, Charles.” Earnestness bled from him in waves, and Charles smiled reassuringly at him. “When did you find out… who I really am?” he asked, hesitatingly.

“I’ve known all along,” Charles replied, his voice soft. “I recognized you from when you crashed through my debate.”

“Charles I’m so-” Erik began, but Charles was laughing again.

“It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “I was never going to win it anyway. Not yet. But I guess that isn’t the real answer to your question after all. Yes you’re Giacomo Casanova, but you aren’t really him either, are you? Really, if you’re going to use my own work against me, then let me know who truly is doing the seducing.”

Erik’s jaw dropped. Absolutely nothing could get past this man. His small slip-up during tea with Raven had given him away instantly. “Erik,” he finally managed. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

Charles beamed at him. “Erik,” he said, and Erik felt as if his name was dancing on Charles’s tongue; he would never get tired of hearing him say it. “Why can’t you just be who you are?” he asked innocently. “Surely the name makes no difference.”

Erik opened his mouth, ready to tell Charles everything- about his past, about his mother, about his insatiable desire to be more than anyone had ever been. But before he could speak, a commotion from the dance hall drifted up to the balloon, which had been drifting lower and lower during their conversation, as neither one of them had remembered to renew the fire in the burner.

As they drifted closer to the ground, Charles let out a cry of shock. “That’s Raven and Henry!” he shouted, pointing to two of the six figures that were surrounded by a crowd of nervous onlookers. “And Marko and...”

He trailed off, but Erik finished his sentence for him. “Shaw. And two of his minions from the looks of it.” Shaw was standing with Marko, the triumphant look on his face growing ever clearer as the balloon succumbed to gravity.

Charles turned frightfully towards Erik. “What are we going to do?” he asked, and Erik wanted more than ever to hold him, reassuring him and banishing the worry from those perfect eyes. Instead, he strode over to the burner, shrugging out of his overcoat and wrapping part of it around his hand. The last of the flames flickered faintly inside the hot metal bowl.

Erik took a deep breath, reached up, and yanked hard on the twine attaching the burner to the canvas. It came free, pouring hot coals onto the wicker of the basket. Charles ran over to help Erik stomp out the last of the fire as the balloon, now completely without lift, plummeted the last fifty feet to the ground.

They landed soundly on the lawn about twenty feet away from the scene they had just been watching, tumbling into each other as the basket fell over, carried by the momentum of the falling balloon. Charles straightened up first, untangling himself from Erik’s limbs and reaching down to help pull Erik to his feet. As soon as they were both upright, they raced across the lawn towards the raised voices of Marko and Raven.

Pushing their way through the crowd, they broke through into the small, open ring containing only Raven, the masked man she had been dancing with, Marko, Shaw, and his guards; one with long dark hair and sallow skin, and one with a scar across his left eye. All three of the men from the Vatican were wearing smug smiles. Marko, however, was red-faced, shrieking at Raven and the masked man.

“She is engaged!” he shouted, gesticulating wildly.

Henry’s shaky voice emanated from behind the mask, and Erik couldn’t say he was really surprised that this was the true identity of Raven’s dance partner. “Please Signor,” Henry began. “I meant no disrespec-”

“No disrespect?!” Marko shrieked almost tauntingly. “Who are you anyway? Why don’t you take off that ridiculous mask?”

Erik and Charles watched helplessly from the edge of the crowd as a look of comprehension and triumph dawned on Marko’s face. “Or perhaps you are afraid to in front of Bishop Shaw?” he asked, eyes glowing hungrily. “Caught in the act of stealing the virtue of another helpless young Venetian virgin?!” Marko pointed righteously at Henry. “Could this be the infamous Casanova?”

Charles let out a disbelieving “No!” as, with a gesture, Shaw’s minions started forward and grabbed Henry, twisting his arms behind his back.

“That’s not true!” Henry shouted. “You have no proof!”

Shaw glided over to the struggling young man and placed a condescending hand on his shoulder. “We are the Vatican, my young friend,” he said, his voice dripping with power. “We don’t have proof yet.”

Raven looked helplessly from Henry to Marko. “You can’t do this!” she cried as Shaw’s henchmen dragged Henry away from her side. “Please, Signor Marko, he meant no harm! We were only dancing!” Tears began spilling unchecked down her pale cheeks as she made to follow after Henry, but Marko strode over to her and held her arm in a vice grip.

“We are going home now before you can disgrace yourself any more,” he said, his jaw clenched.

Beside Erik, Charles was tense with bottled frustration. When he turned to meet his gaze, Erik saw angry tears ready to spill from Charles’s eyes. “We have to do something,” he whispered urgently, ignoring a tear that escaped and started sliding down his cheek.

Erik knew immediately what he needed to do. All his life he had relied on others to get him out of trouble; he looked to Tony to save him from the police, and he had been waiting for fourteen years for his mother to come save him from his shamble of a childhood, even though he was well past an age where he needed her guidance. When he looked at Charles, he realized how little he himself had accomplished in life. There was no way he was worthy of Charles; Charles who fought daily against societal constraints for his sister’s well-being, who had lost everything at the hands of his stepfather and not complained once about it, who even now was desperately trying to hold onto some hope for his friend even as there certainly was none left.

Erik spared one moment to gaze back into Charles’s eyes, thinking about how much he would have liked to get to know him better. He, Charles, and Raven could have led a very happy life, passing the days in a companionable existence, quietly making fun of Marko’s pompousness over dinner. Erik and Charles could have talked for hours, or played chess while listening to Raven practice piano on a lazy Sunday afternoon as they had before. But now all his selfishness had finally caught up with him just when he finally had what he wanted.

Erik reached up and brushed away the tear that was rolling down Charles’s cheek, his hand lingering only for a moment on Charles’s warm skin as the other man looked at him, confusion clouding the blue in his eyes. Erik gave him an apologetic smile before bounding into the ring created by the still transfixed onlookers, trying to ignore the way Charles’s eyes had widened in comprehension and shock just before their gaze broke.

“Signor Salvito!” Marko simpered, trying to smile genially at Erik. “I’m so sorry you had to witness this-”

Erik cut him off with gesture of his hand. “No, Signor Marko, I’m afraid I’m not Lupo Salvito.” He raised his voice, loud enough for everyone watching to hear. “Lupo Salvito is a character from a penny dreadful series. My real name is Giacomo Casanova. Or I guess I should say my real name is Erik Lehnsherr, but I changed it to Giacomo Casanova when I was fourteen. I’ve been stealing the virtues of your daughters, wives, and nuns ever since. Although to be truthful it’s not really stealing if it’s given to me with utmost enthusiasm.”

During his speech, Shaw had turned around, motioning for his men to stop dragging Henry away. He now stood before Erik, a look of unbridled pleasure on his face. Erik drew himself up to his full height and stared right back into those unfeeling eyes. He addressed Raven without breaking his eye contact with Shaw. “I’m so sorry, Raven, I never meant to hurt you. You would have made a lovely companion, but I’m afraid neither of our hearts were in it after all. We shall have to call off the engagement.”

With a snap of Shaw’s fingers, Henry was released and racing across the lawn towards Raven, who had shaken herself free from a dumbstruck Marko. She took his hands in hers, but neither of them could stop staring at Erik as Shaw’s henchmen now rounded on him, producing a pair of manacles and clapping them roughly onto Erik’s wrists, which were now pinned behind his back.

A merciless smile fixed itself to Shaw’s face. “Casanova... or should I say Erik Lehnsherr?” he laughed coldly as Erik continued to stare doggedly at him. “You are hereby sentenced to death by hanging tomorrow at dawn. Take him away.” A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd as the two men began to pull Erik away towards the street.

The whispers were broken by a strangled “No!” shouted at Erik’s retreating back. He whirled around and saw Charles standing steadfastly in front of Shaw. “You’ll not take him,” he said firmly. “Not without me.”

Erik struggled vainly against his captors. “Don’t, Charles!” he shouted, feeling sick and panicked with the realization of what Charles was doing. “I’m not worth it! Stop!”

Charles turned to him, hard determination flaring from his eyes, and Erik couldn’t help but remember that same strength emanating from him when they had fenced. “Not a chance,” he said quietly, a rueful smile lighting on his lips. “Do you really think I’d let you die without me?” He broke their gaze and looked back at Shaw. “I am the heretic Bernardo Guardi.”

The crowd erupted once again. Erik never tore his eyes away from Charles’s as Shaw ordered his guards to seize him, trying to answer the acceptance and strength that poured from them as Charles was also clapped in irons. He didn’t see Henry catching Raven as she fainted when Shaw announced that Charles would suffer the same punishment in the morning as Erik. When at last Shaw strode off in front of them, leading the way for his guards, there was nothing Erik could do but hold onto the gaze of those brilliant blue eyes, his only lifeline as he free fell into the abyss before him.


	9. Chapter 9

The unpleasant scent of rotting straw and rusting iron met Erik’s nostrils as he and Charles were dragged down the steps of the police station and into the basement. The cells before them were all empty, as it was an unspoken rule that any mischief committed during the hours of celebration on Carnivale would be overlooked. Although, Erik thought ruefully, this rule did not seem to apply to the Vatican’s most wanted.

The scar-faced man, who was holding Erik’s arms in place, opened one of the cell doors with his free hand and shoved his captive in with the other. Erik landed painfully on his knees, his eyes welling up as he felt the skin there bruising almost instantly. He heard Charles suck in air through his teeth and knew the same must have happened to him. Erik fought the urge to lash out as he felt the scarred man undo the manacles; even if he managed to overpower the two goons that had brought him and Charles down here, there was a station filled with police upstairs. He and Charles stood no chance of escaping.

The clanking of the cell door brought Erik back to his senses, and he heard one of the guards say “We’ll be back for you two in the morning.” He heard their footsteps and chuckles dying away as they ascended the staircase at the end of the hallway. As soon as the door upstairs swung shut Erik was on his feet, rushing to the makeshift barred wall that separated his and Charles’s cells. Charles was already there, his hands resting on two of the iron bars and his forehead resting on a third in between them. He looked up and met Erik’s gaze as he approached.

“Why did you do that?” Erik’s question was half snarled, half sighed as he brought his hands up to meet Charles’s.

Charles smiled weakly up at him through his long lashes. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said softly. He shifted his hands to interlock his fingers with Erik’s. “I thought I was making myself quite clear back there.”

Erik let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding in a strangled laugh. “You know what I mean, you idiot,” he said, lowering his face to Charles’s. Their noses bumped together as they shifted, Charles nuzzling as close to Erik as the bars between them would allow. He continued softly. “I was trying to do something noble for you and you just couldn’t give me all the glory.”

Charles’s breathy laugh ghosted over Erik’s lips. “I resent that, Erik,” he countered, his voice barely a whisper. “You aren’t the only person who tries to be gallant when they aren’t hiding behind a nom-de-plume.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Erik replied.

Charles swallowed hard before wetting his lips. Erik barely saw the motion through his half-lidded eyes. “Well, seeing as we only have a handful of hours left to live I guess I can forgive you.”

With a desperate noise Erik brought their lips crashing together, unlacing one of his hands from Charles’s to cup his jaw. The bars banged awkwardly into the sides of Erik’s forehead and chin as he fought to get as close to Charles as possible, but he didn’t care. Moaning with surprise and happiness, Charles reached through the bars and wrapped his free hand around the small of Erik’s back, drawing him flush against the bars.

Erik sucked in a surprised breath through his nose as he felt Charles sliding his tongue imploringly into his mouth, licking cautiously along his bottom lip. Erik tangled his hand in Charles’s thick tresses, reveling in the softness that slipped through his fingers. He sucked at Charles’s tongue, eliciting another moan from the smaller man. Feeling the familiar pooling of lust somewhere near his stomach, he began cautiously peeling off Charles’s overcoat, Charles shimmying to help once he realized what Erik was doing.

Once Charles’s coat was gone, Erik began working on the vest, Charles moving his hand from where it has still been resting on his back to do the same for Erik, their lips still crashing together ferociously. Erik nipped at Charles’s bottom lip as he undid the last buttons of his silvery vest. There were still so many layers between them, Erik realized with a groan. It seemed that Charles was thinking the same thing. He made quick work of Erik’s vest and undershirt, pushing his soft, cold hands against Erik’s exposed flesh. Instinctively, Erik rocked his hips forward, searching for the friction they both so desperately needed but couldn’t quite get.

Erik groaned as Charles broke away, gasping. “Damn these bars,” he growled, pressing their foreheads together. Charles allowed Erik to pull his shirt over his head before looping his arm around Erik’s neck as best as he could, pressing soft, reassuring kisses to his lips.

“If someone comes down and sees us…” He whispered in between kisses.

Erik laughed ruefully and Charles pulled back, giving him the opportunity to pepper his face and their still-linked hands with his lips. “What’s a sodomy charge on top of heresy or fornication?” he asked innocently. “And if I’m being charged with fornication anyway I’d rather it be for someone I actually care about.” He felt Charles lift his chin and he gazed into the sapphire eyes, sparkling with emotion before their lips met once again.

Their kisses were slower this time, languid, as if they had all the time in the world. Erik explored Charles’s mouth, running his tongue along Charles’s own, and along the ridges of his teeth, finding the things that made the other man’s breath quicken. It wasn’t until he withdrew his tongue to trace Charles’s lips that he tasted salt, and, pulling away, saw Charles’s cheeks damp with tears.

Charles attempted a smile as Erik gazed at him hopelessly, wiping the remaining tear tracks from his face. “I wish I could get to know all of you,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to know absolutely everything about you, Erik. But there’s no time.” Fresh tears welled up and threatened to spill over. Charles blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them.

Erik attempted to swallow the sobs now threatening to break from his own throat. He let out one shaking breath before leaning over to kiss Charles on the forehead. “There’s tonight,” he said before pressing his lips to Charles’s tenderly.

He felt Charles laugh mournfully against his mouth. “Yes,” he replied. “There is tonight.”

Erik rolled his hips slowly again in reply. Where before the action had been involuntary, primal, now it was sweeter, almost like a promise. Charles moaned again, bringing Erik’s tongue into his mouth with his own. Erik pulled Charles forward by his hips so he was once again flush against the bars which allowed for only fleeting contact between their naked torsos. Almost reluctantly, Erik released Charles’s mouth to trail kisses down his sternum towards his abdomen. Charles sucked in a breath as Erik slid his trousers and underwear down over his very evident arousal to pool at his ankles.

“Charles, look at me,” Erik said quietly, and Charles looked down to capture those stunning gray eyes, sparkling with pleasure and mischief right before Erik took Charles into his mouth. Charles gasped, tightening his grip on the iron bars that prevented the close contact he thought he would die without.

“Oh God, Erik,” Charles managed. Erik’s returning chuckle sent waves of pleasure through Charles, making his knees buckle. Unfortunately, the movement caused him to pull free of Erik’s mouth, and the other man looped a hand behind his backside to pull him back.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Xavier,” Erik growled bemusedly, swirling his tongue around the tip of Charles’s cock before devouring him again.

A strangled laugh escaped Charles’s lips, catching in his throat and turning into a gasp as Erik did some very inventive things with his tongue and lips. Erik hummed in pleasure as he heard the noises Charles was making, earning him a strangled yelp.

“Erik, please,” Charles breathed in a rush. “I think-” He started to pull away.

Erik rolled his eyes. Leave it to Charles to not want to completely besmirch the mouth of Casanova. He pulled his hold on Charles tighter, taking him all the way into his mouth again until he felt Charles hit the back of his throat. Charles let out a low moan as the full force of his orgasm hit him, Erik guiding him through it until at last, when Charles had taken his last shuddering breath, he pulled away, swallowing and wiping his mouth.

Charles pulled Erik to his feet again, twining his fingers in his hair to bring their lips together again passionately. Erik let in a surprised breath as Charles’s free hand ran quickly down his stomach, splayed to take in as much of Erik as he possibly could. He yanked down hard on Erik’s remaining clothing, laughing in breathless triumph against his lips as he took Erik in his hand.

Erik pulled away to catch his breath, making unintelligible noises as Charles’s fingers found exactly the right ways to twist or ghost over his sensitive skin. Charles used the hand still tangled in Erik’s hand to pull their lips back together, plundering Erik’s mouth with his tongue. Erik had already been aching to be touched, and when Charles sucked on his tongue, running his thumb over the tip of his cock, Erik couldn’t stand it anymore. He let out a strangled “Charles” as the other man stroked him through his orgasm, smiling mischievously against Erik’s lips.

When he finally stopped seeing stars, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles, trying to bury his face in his dark hair through the bars. It was futile effort, of course, but Charles’s slowly steadying breathing was reassuring as his nose nuzzled at Erik’s chest.

“I never thought I’d be able to do that,” Charles mumbled sleepily.

Erik kissed his forehead. “Neither did I,” he replied, rubbing tiny circles on the skin of Charles’s back.

They fell asleep tangled together as best they could, their vests cushioning their heads on the rotting straw ground. At Charles’s quiet insistence, Erik had told him all about his past, about his mother and his years with his great-aunt. When Charles insisted that he wanted to know everything he could, Erik even told him about his life as Casanova, how he had found his special, God-given talent in a brothel quite by accident. He told him of his need to stay in Venice in order to see his mother again. Most importantly, Erik told Charles about how, since the day he had met him, he had been able to think of little else, and how he thought that even if they both lived til they were a hundred, he doubted he could ever think of anyone else again.

Just hours before the first light of day, Erik had pressed his lips to Charles’s one last time. “I love you,” he breathed.

“And I love you,” Charles replied, running a hand softly over Erik’s features before sliding his fingers into Erik’s own.

They were quiet after that. As they drifted off, it seemed to Erik that since he had finally confessed his last secret to Charles, and had gotten the confession in response that he had hardly dared to dream of, he could now face the dawn without fear.


	10. Chapter 10

The clanking of the upstairs door accompanied by the laughter and mindless chatter of the guards woke Erik. For a blessed moment he forgot where he was and just reveled in the feeling of Charles’s fingers interlocked with his, his breathing soft against Erik’s cheek. Then the reality of their surroundings hit him. Panicked, his eyes jerked open and he instinctively sat up, jostling Charles awake as his arm slid back into his own cell.

Charles’s eyes fluttered open, letting out a disappointed moan at the loss of contact before he too jerked, sitting up rapidly and looking over at Erik, his face creased with dread. Not knowing what else to do, Erik reached back through the bars, bringing Charles’s to the bars to meet their lips in a fleeting, ferocious kiss before the guards descended the last few steps and came into view.

Pulling back, he looked into Charles’s eyes, willing him to understand the depths of what he was going to say. “Charles,” he said as evenly as was possible with his racing heartbeat. “I love you.”

Charles nodded fiercely, bringing his own hands up to Erik’s face. “I love you. I love you,” he breathed, tears starting to spill from his impossibly blue eyes.

A few yards behind them, the guards yelled for them to stand. “Turn with your backs to the door and put your arms through the bars,” a gruffly accented voice commanded.

Desperately, Erik crashed his lips into Charles’s one last time, breaking away with a choked noise. He felt completely numb as he pulled away, his legs moving of their own accord as they both ghosted to the doors of their cells, never breaking eye contact. The roughness of the rope with which the guards were binding his hands seemed to bite into his wrists as he remembered the warmth and softness of Charles’s skin against his own. He swallowed hard in a vain attempt to relieve the lump in his throat.

Despite the tears still falling unchecked down his cheeks, Charles smiled bravely at Erik. “Don’t worry,” he mouthed as they withdrew their hands from the bars to let the guards unlock the doors. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Erik whispered back before the cell doors swung open and the guards grabbed them both roughly, forcing them down the corridor towards the stairs.

The large open square outside the police station was often used for hangings. There was a gallows and a great deal of seating built up against the building on the other side of the square, including a private box for important onlookers. In the past, Erik had avoided the area like the plague, finding the excited chatter of the crowds that would gather there disturbing beyond belief. He had never thought he would actually find himself being led through the biggest crowd the square had ever seen.

News of Casanova and Bernardo Guardi’s capture had spread like wildfire, not just through Venice, but through the entire surrounding area, well into the rest of Italy. People had come from all around the country, and the VIP box of the stands was packed almost to bursting. As the guards jostled them through the crowd, Erik looked up and saw Shaw, flushed with victory, sitting next to a pale Prince Antony. Erik’s old friend looked like he was about to be sick, refusing to look anywhere but at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

Through the jeers of the crowd, Erik’s ears caught the shouts of familiar voices. Looking up, he saw Henry and Raven shoving their way through the sea of people towards them.

“Charles!” Raven cried out desperately, elbowing spectators out of the way as she fought towards her brother. “Erik!”

Erik turned just in time to see both Raven and Henry being restrained by two of the many guards standing watch over the booing and chattering crowd. Raven shrieked in frustration, struggling unsuccessfully against the guard’s firm grip. Erik’s attention was refocused yet again when he heard someone calling to him from the other side of the parted crowd.

“Giacomo! Erik!” Alex was hurtling through the crowd looking ready to fight the guards blocking his way to his friend. Indeed, it seemed like Alex, Raven, and Hank had been planning some sort of impromptu rescue mission since Erik glanced at all of them and realized they were all armed.

“Don’t!” Erik shouted as Alex reached for the hilt of his sword. “There’s no point in you all dying as well!”

Erik didn’t know if Alex couldn’t hear him over the roar of the crowd or if he was just ignoring Erik’s final wishes, because he once again moved to unsheathe his sword. Unfortunately, one of the guards noticed the exchange and quickly broke ranks to restrain Alex, who screamed and thrashed against his captor’s hold. Erik looked hopelessly around him, searching for one last out. He glanced up to the spectator’s box as if to plead with Tony for one more chance to get it right, but the Prince’s gaze was still fixed determinedly on his lap. However, Emma Frost was now standing next to Shaw, apparently pleading with him. Shaw didn’t seem to be listening very intently, but rather was looking at Emma as if he would like to devour her.

With the chances of escape now at absolute zero, the roar of the eager spectators around Erik seemed to dissipate; the only sound he could focus on was the rush of the blood in his ears and the hiss of his quickening breathing. He realized with a pang that these were probably the last things he was going to hear, the sudden thought finally coaxing the impending sobs from his throat.

They had reached the steps of the gallows at last. Erik’s legs seemed unable to obey him as the guard holding his arms shoved him roughly up the uneven wooden steps to the raised platform, eight feet above the crowd. The guards led Erik and Charles to stand on the two trapdoors that had been built into the makeshift stage, stepping back for two new figures to take their places in tying the nooses. The executioners were hooded and cloaked, ceremonial swords at their sides.

Erik found he couldn’t look at them. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Charles. More than anything he wanted to be able to reach out and take his hand, or run his fingers over the smooth skin of his cheek. Charles gazed evenly back at him. He had stopped crying miraculously, Erik thought, and was now looking evenly back at Erik, a sparkle of something dancing in his eyes.

“Goodbye, love,” he said, his voice carrying impossibly over the roar of the crowd.

Erik choked out something half-laugh half-sob. “I love you,” he shouted over the crowd and Charles smiled blindingly back at him. Erik closed his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted to see. The masked guards were finishing tightening the nooses now, beginning to draw away. Right as Erik was taking what he realized was going to be his final breath, a voice sounded in his ear, making his eyes jerk open again.

“Bend you knees and don’t lock your ankles,” a soft voice whispered. It was a woman’s voice. A very familiar voice, and Erik turned suddenly to face the executioner. He met hauntingly familiar, chocolate eyes with a slight crinkle of happiness in them, visible through the mask.

“Mother?” he said disbelievingly. The figure held a finger to her lips and pulled the lever, releasing latch on the trap doors.

Erik’s feet hit the ground painfully and he stumbled, but didn’t fall thanks to the executioner’s advice. His hands flew out, from behind his back to catch him instinctively, and he felt the rest of the rope sliding useless down behind him. Hearing a surprised yelp, Erik looked over to see Charles on his feet next to him, eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at his freed hands. Charles let out an almost hysterical peal of laughter, and Erik joined him. The crowd seemed to have frozen in collective bewilderment, and for a blessed moment, no one moved. Finally someone shouted “Seize them!” from somewhere in the stands, and the guards rushed forward.

Erik quickly removed the noose from around his neck, Charles mimicking him, and tossed the loose end to Charles. Together they rushed forward, tripping the guards in front of them with their makeshift weapon. From the steps, Erik heard the shouts of the executioners and turned to see them both, ceremonial swords unsheathed as they rushed to help Erik and Charles escape. Surprised cries began to rent the air as the foursome slashed and shoved their way towards the open street and its promise of safety.

In the stands Shaw was on his feet, shouting uselessly for the guards to “Seize them! Fight harder!” while beside him Tony was jumping up and down, yelling, “Go, Erik! Run! That’s right, get them!” as he waved his arms above his head, whooping in triumph.

More shouts began to break out in the crowd, and Erik, Charles and the still-masked executioners rushed forward to find Alex, Raven, and Henry clearing the way for them, apparently freed by their stunned guards. Raven ran up to Charles and passed him his sword, having stolen one for herself from an unsuspecting guard.

She spared a moment in their attack to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Never do that again!” she shouted over her shoulder as she rushed back into the fray of frightened spectators and confused guards.

Erik, still weaponless, brought up the rear as they broke free of the crowd and out into the safety of the street, fighting off the policemen with his bare hands until Charles doubled back and came to his aid.

“Come along, darling,” Charles said, grinning cheekily at Erik as he took his hand and interlocked their fingers, pulling him back to the rest group.

They had reached the street, but Erik’s heart sank when he saw more guards pouring from the police station, blocking one side of the street, while the policemen that had not been incapacitated in the battle now scrambled to block the other side.

“Jakob!” the woman executioner shouted. One of the carriages parked in the road jolted forward as the man in the driver’s seat let out a heartening whoop. They rushed for the caravan, hopping inside as it screeched to a halt momentarily in front of them. The masked woman jumped up to sit beside the driver, and Erik almost followed her, but was forced to jump into the carriage as they started off, knocking the fleeing policemen aside.

The shouts from the square outside the police station grew dimmer and dimmer as the carriage careened through the crowded streets, sending confused pedestrians flying. Erik felt Charles squeeze his hand and he turned to take him all in, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Erik laughed, feeling the relief and happiness rushing through him as he reached up to brush a wave of floppy hair out of Charles’s eyes. They gazed stupidly at each other as if neither one could quite believe the other was real until Raven’s voice broke the silence.

“So I guess that means you weren’t joking about the wedding being called off?” she asked, grinning at the pair of them.

Erik grinned back at her, his smile all teeth in his elation. “I’m afraid so. Please don’t try to be too broken up about it,” he replied, relinquishing Charles’s hand only to loop an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his side.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage,” said Raven, turning to wink at Henry.

Alex rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh at the ridiculousness of the couples surrounding him. The other would-be executioner had removed his mask revealing a man with dark, lean features, and a goatee. He smiled at Alex sympathetically.

“Don’t worry,” he said leaning conspiratorially close to Alex. “I won’t get all mushy on you.” All the same he winked before turning his gaze to the open window. Alex felt his stomach do a small flip and he opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, covering his movement with an awkward cough as he looked down at his feet.

The carriage came to a screeching halt and they all stepped out, finding themselves looking out at the expanse of the Golfo di Venezia. The still-hooded woman executioner was already slashing at the ropes of the nearest ship with her sword, the bonds already halfway cut.

“Come on!” the other executioner said urgently, shepherding them all onto the boat before moving to help undo the ropes.

Charles rushed over to the side of the ship. “We don’t need to seal this one,” he said, motioning for them to stop cutting. “My stepfather has his own-” but he was cut off as Erik pulled him back by the waist, crashing their lips together fiercely.

“Just this once, Charles, let it go,” he mumbled against his lips when they broke apart.

“Okay,” Charles breathed, reaching up eagerly to capture Erik’s mouth once more.

They were forced to break apart once more as, with a final heave, the boat rocked away from the dock and the two executioners jumped on board, helping Henry heave the sail all the way up the mast. Charles shot Erik a quick smile before moving forward to help, and Erik, seeing he was not needed, sat down on a bench built into the deck, trying to process what had just happened.

He had just begun to feel that his head had stopped swimming when he felt someone sit tentatively on the bench beside him. The woman executioner had finally taken off her mask. Erik could hardly believe what he was seeing, even though he had known who this must be from the second he had looked into her eyes.

“Mama,” he said numbly. His mother smiled back at him. It was oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, warped from imperfect memory and too many years passed apart, and Erik sat frozen, unable to do anything but look. All the same, there was something about the softness in her eyes, and the warmth of her smile that felt so familiar, like it had been with Erik all along. Suddenly something clicked in his brain. This was his _Mama_. She had come back for him. Erik rushed forward, crushing his mother to him in a frantic hug.

“Erik, mein Schatz,” Edie breathed in his ear, her lean form shaking in Erik’s embrace, tears wetting his shirt. “I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Erik felt tears running down his own cheeks and he hugged his mother tighter. They were several miles out to sea before they broke apart. Erik leaned against Edie’s now impossibly solid frame, holding her smaller hand in his own as they told each other about their lives.

Edie rocked Erik lightly, smoothing his hair as she recounted how she had travelled throughout Europe with the travelling theatre. She had learned all sorts of disguises and sword fighting so she could play men’s parts as well as women. When she told Erik how she had met and married Jakob during one of their extended stays in Berlin, she called him over and introduced them. Erik felt a little dazed at finally getting not just one parent back, but two. Still, he greeted Jakob politely and smiled at him when he was told to call him “Papa” if he wished.

Erik, in turn, told his mother all about his life in Venice; how he had changed his name once his great aunt had died, wanting to start fresh. He hadn’t realized at the time how that would make it almost impossible for his mother to find him again, and by the time he had figured it out, he was already far too famous as Casanova. Finally, over a late-afternoon snack of bread and figs, brought to them by Jakob, Erik told his mother about how he had met Charles, Henry, and Raven. His mother hummed knowingly when Erik told her of his first encounter with Charles. “It always happens when you least expect it,” she said, smiling happily. Erik hadn’t known quite how to respond, but it seemed Edie didn’t need him to.

They stayed locked together until the sun began to set and the boat began to drift steadily towards the shore of a deserted beach. Erik gave Edie a quick kiss on the cheek before leaping to his feet to help Alex, Charles, and Jakob pull the boat as close to the bank as possible, stopping when it’s hull scraped along the sandy shallows.

Edie and Raven prepared them a surprisingly good impromptu dinner of freshly caught fish (thanks to Armando, the now-named other executioner) and wild berries. Their appetites satisfied, everyone seemed ready for bed. Edie gave Erik a quick kiss and a “Süße Träume, mein Schatz,” before departing for the ship again with the others. Erik and Charles stayed behind, gazing into the crackling flames of the fire Henry had built for their dinner. Charles was pressed against Erik’s side, his chest rising and falling in a tranquil rhythm as Erik carded his fingers through his hair.

“You know,” Charles said against Erik’s chest, nuzzling even closer and interlocking their free hands, “I’m not even tired yet.”

Erik snorted affectionately, kissing the top of Charles’s head. “Really?” He smiled as Charles looked up at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. Erik pressed their lips together slowly, slipping his tongue smoothly into Charles’s mouth. They broke away, breathing becoming steadily more ragged as Charles swung his leg over Erik, straddling his hips. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

Charles’s returning grin was absolutely devious before Erik pulled him back down once more, eagerly kissing the only lips he would ever want again.


	11. Chapter 11

Years later, when Erik looked back on this day, he realized how impossible it had all been; finding his mother again, being rescued from the hangman’s noose, and finally, finally figuring out what it actually meant to make love to someone. After ten years of being Casanova, the world’s greatest lover, Erik hadn’t even realized what he was missing. This slip-up, he thought as he nipped affectionately at Charles’s bottom lip, would soon be remedied.

Charles moaned into Erik’s mouth happily, arching his neck to allow Erik to plant a trail of kisses down the pale expanse of skin to his pulse point, still straddling his narrow hips. His hands came up to tangle in Erik’s dark hair, holding his head in place as if afraid he would try to pull away.

“I’m not going anywhere, Charles,” Erik whispered roughly against the soft curve of where Charles’s neck met his shoulder. Charles’s answering hum of agreement vibrated through his chest into Erik’s own as he pulled the other man down, flush against his body, the sand of the deserted beach digging into the back of his neck. Carefully, so as not to catch Charles off his guard, Erik turned so he was now balanced above the other man, their tongues sliding eagerly against each other.

The sheer warmth of Charles beneath him was oddly surprising to Erik, since their only intimate contact before had been hindered by the iron bars of the prison cells. Now, with no boundaries, they were free to completely explore every inch of the other’s body. Erik broke apart their lips as he groaned instinctively, Charles arching towards him, brushing their still clothed but now painfully evident erections together. Charles grinned against Erik’s mouth devilishly, moving to pull his shirt over his head, but Erik caught his wrist gently. Charles frowned, looking up questioningly into Erik’s face.

“Oh we’re doing this,” he said reassuringly when it looked like Charles was about to argue with him. “But not here. Not in the sand. To the ship. Now.”

They both scrambled to their feet, awkwardly tripping over each other in their haste to get back to the boat. Erik was up first, and he held out a hand to help Charles stand. Charles took it and held on as they both raced across the sand and into the shallows where the boat was still swaying gently in the waves. With his longer legs, Erik reached the rope ladder placed over the side of the ship first, scrambling up the flimsy contraption before leaning over the side to help Charles. As soon as they were both on the deck, Erik pulled Charles to him to crash their lips together, warm and open-mouthed.

Slowly, Erik began to make his way backwards towards the door, keeping Charles firmly against him by his hips. The back of his head hit the door to the downstairs cabins with an unceremonious thunk.

“Are you alright?” Charles purred, breaking away from Erik’s lips in an attempt to survey the damage to his head and the door.

“It’s fine,” Erik said breathlessly, using Charles’s distance to fumble with the handle. If he didn’t force himself to concentrate on something other than Charles’s mouth, they would never make it downstairs and into one of the deserted cabins. The door swung open, and Erik grabbed Charles’s hand, leading him down the staircase and into the corridor below, which was dimly lit by a series of Argand lamps.

The five rooms closest to the stairs were already occupied, their doors shut and their inhabitants quiet. It seemed everyone else had already fallen asleep, exhausted by the strenuous events of the day. Erik wondered if he would ever be this lucky again as he dragged Charles down the surprisingly spacious hallway all the way to the last room on the left, the furthest away from anyone else. Together they slipped inside, shutting the door softly. Charles nearly tripped over Erik in his eagerness to claim his mouth once more, causing Erik to fall back against the door.

Charles’s slender fingers had already slipped under Erik’s white cotton shirt, and they broke apart just long enough for Charles to pull the garment over his head. Charles moaned appreciatively into Erik’s mouth as his hands roamed over the now exposed flesh, his fingers brushing tentatively over a scar just above Erik’s left hip, the remnants of a nasty fall from a tree when Erik was eight.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered against Charles’s lips. “I’ll tell you later. I’ll tell you everything later.”

Charles kissed a path down Erik’s cheek and along the line of his jaw, nipping at his earlobe. Erik leaned into Charles’s warmth, pushing them back towards the comfortable looking bed in the corner of the room. Whoever the owner of this boat was, they must be very wealthy. The room was bigger than Erik had expected, and extravagantly furnished. A mirror hung on the wall next to the door and a side table was bolted to the floor next to the bed, holding a basket filled with expensive looking lotions and perfumes. There was also an armoire built into the wall opposite the bed, which was size-able and covered in soft looking pillows, a fluffy duvet and silky red sheets. Erik silently praised himself when sliding onto the cushiony mattress, covering Charles’s body with his own, for having the foresight to follow through with this in a comfortable bed instead of the sandy beach.

Somewhere during their hasty stumble to the bed, Erik had disposed of Charles’s shirt, running calloused hands over the smooth skin of his stomach and back. Their noses bumped softly as their lips brushed together, pausing in their frantic exploration of each other’s mouths to breathe. Erik settled himself in between Charles’s legs, taking care not to crush the other man beneath him as he leaned forward to run his tongue along the shell of his ear and suck at the junction of his jaw and neck.

Charles let out a gasp, rutting against Erik helplessly as little mewling sounds fell from his lips. “Erik please,” he finally managed, hands finding hem of Erik’s trousers and yanking down.

Erik hissed as Charles’s fingers wrapped around his cock, a cheeky laugh escaping his kiss-reddened lips. Charles leaned up to capture Erik’s mouth once more, sliding his tongue along the bottom lip slowly in mimicry of the motion he was doing with his hands. Erik made an indistinguishable noise in the back of his throat as Charles’s lips trailed down his neck and chest, gently forcing Erik onto his back as Charles clambered on top of him.

A loud groan escaped Erik as Charles’s mouth joined his hands, tongue tracing a wet line up from the base to the tip. It was all Erik could do to make his hips stay firmly against the mattress, resisting the urge to buck up into the heat of Charles’s mouth as he took in as much of Erik as he could, which was surprisingly a lot. Erik wondered if maybe this wasn’t Charles’s first time with a man.

The thought made him oddly possessive; part of the allure of all the other people he had been with as Casanova was that he was taking something forbidden. Now that he realized Charles might have already experienced this with someone else it made his stomach churn angrily, and a low growl escaped his throat.

Startled, Charles looked up. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, sliding back up towards Erik’s face, the spark in his eyes dimming as his expression became apologetic. He kissed the corner of Erik’s mouth. “I’m afraid I’m not very practiced at this.”

Erik brushed a soft kiss over Charles’s lips reassuringly. “No,” he whispered roughly. “I was just thinking… well… you’re quite good at this, and I thought maybe…” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“Maybe I’d done this before?” Charles finished quietly, smiling knowingly. “Well you’re one to talk Erik, you don’t see me getting all upset.”

“Perhaps I’m not as forgiving as you,” Erik mumbled, against Charles’s hair as he pulled him into a possessive embrace.

Charles’s sigh tickled Erik’s neck before he felt Charles’s warm lips against his skin. “Well, I guess I’m just a fast learner because I haven’t,” he said softly, pulling back to press a kiss to Erik’s lips before continuing teasingly. “Although I really should be the one complaining here.”

“Believe me, if I had met you ten years sooner no one would have even known the name Casanova,” Erik replied, before claiming Charles’s lips once more. Charles moaned happily, licking at Erik’s tongue with his own. “Trousers off,” Erik commanded hoarsely, and Charles responded enthusiastically, slipping from the confines of the taller man’s embrace to kick the offending garments off clumsily. A chuckle escaped Erik’s mouth as he watched Charles flail his left leg, which was trapped in the bunched-up cloth.

“Don’t laugh!” Charles said angrily, shooting daggers over his shoulder at Erik who was making no move to help, but was simply propped on his elbow, watching Charles affectionately. He kicked at the tangled pant leg until finally his ankle was free, and quickly straddled Erik’s hips once more, their now completely naked bodies skimming together as their lips met.

“I’ll teach you to mock me,” Charles said, biting at Erik’s bottom lip. “You just wait until I get my hands on some feathers and some twine or something. Then you’ll be sorry.”

Erik laughed against Charles’s mouth, wrapping his arms around his smaller frame to pull him closer. “Don’t you dare leave this bed, Xavier,” he said in between very thorough kisses. “Ever.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Charles replied breathlessly, gasping as Erik enclosed his hand over both their cocks, sliding slowly up and down. Their hips pitched in rhythm to the languorous pace Erik had set. Licking Charles’s mouth open again, Erik slowly reached over to grab one of the bottles of lotion on the nightstand next to them. Charles noticed his movement and stiffened momentarily, immediately trying to cover it up by sucking enthusiastically on Erik’s mouth. However, Erik could not be distracted. He broke away from Charles, lotion in hand, and sat up, causing Charles to fall back onto his knees, sitting on his ankles.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Erik said carefully, running a hand through Charles’s hair to settle on the curve of his jaw. “Or I could-”

Charles shook his head determinedly, cutting Erik off. “No,” he said quietly, lifting his gaze from Erik’s chest to meet his eyes. “It’s going to happen eventually. And I want this.”

Erik searched Charles’s gaze for a sign that he was lying, but he was only met with a resolute stare. “Come here,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. Charles scooted his way up Erik’s legs to kiss him fiercely as Erik coated three fingers copiously with the lotion before setting the bottle back down on the table.

“Tell me if this hurts,” Erik said firmly, “and I’ll stop.”

Charles nodded, resting his forehead again Erik’s and attempting to keep his breathing even. Erik laced the fingers of his free hand with the one Charles was resting on his shoulder as his other slid along the curve of Charles’s arse. The hand gripping Erik’s tightened and Charles let out a steady breath as he felt the first digit enter.

“Okay?” Erik whispered.

“Mm hmm,” Charles breathed, relaxing a little more against Erik when he realized how tense he was.

“Good,” Erik purred, catching Charles in a surprisingly chaste kiss.

Erik waited until Charles was ready before inserting another finger alongside the first, making Charles moan into his mouth. He tangled their tongues together, rocking back against Erik’s hand encouragingly, his movement causing their erections to brush against each other once more. Erik steeled himself against the climax already building at the base of his spine, doing his best to ignore the intoxicating noises Charles was making.

“Erik,” Charles pleaded, his breath catching in his throat.

 _Damn it_ , Erik thought as Charles bucked against his hand once more. He was making it almost impossible to be the gentlemen, but nevertheless Erik tried to be gentle as he slid the third finger into place. Barely a second passed before Charles reached over to take the lotion from the nightstand once more, squeezing some into his hand before working it onto Erik’s cock with deft strokes.

“Damn it,” Erik said out loud this time, his breath hissing in through his teeth before Charles crashed their lips together, sucking on his tongue.

They broke apart and Charles whispered, “I’m ready, Erik, please.”

As quickly as he could, Erik withdrew his fingers, carefully turning Charles so he was on his back against the mattress, his legs locked around Erik’s midsection. Slowly, watching Charles’s face for any sign of discomfort, Erik pushed into him. Charles’s brow creased for a fraction of a second, and Erik stopped, ready to pull away, but Charles’s legs held him close. He threaded his fingers through Erik’s hair, bringing him down for a reassuring kiss, so Erik continued.

Once he was sure he wouldn’t hurt Charles any further, Erik slowly began to rock his hips, eliciting a low humming noise from Charles, as Erik gasped against his shoulder. Charles relaxed even more against him and Erik took this as encouragement to go faster, his pace increasing along with his breathing as his release built up somewhere near the base of his spine.

Charles whimpered and rocked with Erik as his hips hit the perfect spot over and over again. Breathing as if he had just run a marathon, he brought his mouth up to meet Erik’s messily, not fully in control of his body at the moment. “God, Erik,” he gasped, his hands clutching blindly as they ran over the other man’s back and shoulders.

Erik’s moan coursed through his whole body. He was too close to losing himself, and could only nip at Charles’s jaw in reply before pressing a soft albeit wet kiss to his temple. He reached in between them and took Charles’s cock, already wet with precome, in his hand. Charles let out a quiet cry and jerked his hips upwards, meeting Erik thrust for thrust and attempting to quicken the rhythm which Erik’s hand had set.

“God, Erik,” Charles choked out once more. “Faster, _please_.”   
Erik, of course, obliged. Charles’s low moan turned into an abrupt shout, and his hips bucked upwards suddenly as his climax hit. Erik’s lips muffled his cry and, unable to stand it any longer, he toppled over the edge with Charles, pistoning his hips erratically until he regained some semblance of control.

Erik slowly slid out and dropped to his side next to Charles, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer as Charles buried his face against Erik’s neck. Charles, Erik noticed when he went to lace their hands together, was trembling, his breath stuttering over Erik’s collarbone. Alarmed, Erik brought a hand under Charles’s chin, tipping his head back to meet his gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, brushing his thumb over the soft curve of Charles’s cheek bone.

Charles nodded, sucking in a shaky breath through his nose. “Yes.” He pulled Erik down for a fleeting kiss. “I’m fine,” he whispered shakily against Erik’s lips. “I just... that was... we should do that again.”

Erik laughed. “Definitely.” He kissed Charles gently before pulling him back into his embrace.

They stayed tangled together as their ragged breathing gradually evened out. Erik doubted he had ever been so exhausted before in his life, but nevertheless, a contented smile stretched across his face. Charles looked up at him, his grin mirroring Erik’s own before he closed the gap between their lips once more.

“I love you,” Erik whispered, brushing a stray lock from Charles’s sparkling blue eyes. “So much.”

Charles smiled and kissed him again. “I love you too.”

They fell asleep wrapped tightly around each other, Charles’s breathing soft against Erik’s collarbone and Erik’s face buried in Charles’s floppy hair, finally completely contented.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the beautiful and talented dizzycalm. GO FOLLOW HER ON TUMBLR (shercock.tumblr.com) GO DO IT NOW!
> 
> Comments are much appreciated! Thanks for reading!


End file.
